


First Time For Everything

by Nerenight



Series: The Molly3 Series [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, everyone is gay for jester, everyone is soft, maybe some smut, mollymauk is shirtless in at least three chapters, who knows how caleb and molly studying alone together will go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerenight/pseuds/Nerenight
Summary: The Mighty Nein have reunited with a new Mollymauk with remnants of the old; everyone wants some time with him.A series of short one-shots that also follow a loose plot throughout. (Best if you read part 1 of the series or you will be hella confused.)
Relationships: BeauJes - Relationship, Widomauk - Relationship, everyone is soft for each other lbr
Series: The Molly3 Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672030
Comments: 40
Kudos: 207





	1. A Trip

**Author's Note:**

> I needed more Molly3 content - if not for you all, then for myself - because he is pure and a little dumb, but he tries his best. Thank you guys for your patience and comments from my last story, they really drove me to keep writing. And of course, as I tell my IG friends: you are welcome to put in a request for an interaction plot!

Beau, he concluded, punches hard. 

Of course he experienced that when they first officially remet down in the well of that cave; already freezing and numb then, it wasn’t as striking as now - sparring in their home in Xhorhas. Stripped down to his pants, his hair falling out of the ponytail he knotted it in, Mollymauk ducked the next swing. His tail hooked around the monk’s ankle, yanking it opposite of her balance, but Beauregard was quick to adjust, bending impossibly to get herself over the tiefling and back in front of him. 

“What the fuck,” Mollymauk breathed, quickly wiping the sweat pouring down his neck. “Do you have any bones?” 

Beau jabbed her open palm forward, catching Mollymauk in the shoulder. “I do when I need them,” she said, “Hey, maybe we could reopen that circus of yours. I could have some badass act.” 

“It wasn’t -” Mollymauk stepped back from the next punch. “-my circus. And it was a carnival, thank you very much.” 

“Ayy, you remembered!” She offered a small clap in between swipes. 

The Mighty Nein had been working on pulling out more memories from the almost-a-year-old tiefling for the past couple days as he settled into the house. 

“I’d remember more if you didn’t give me a concussion,” Mollymauk replied, throwing a fist to her forehead. He didn’t want to actually hurt her - not that he could in hand-to-hand - but on the off chance he got a hit in, he peppered it with a healing spell. He would study the scar on her face, and how different her hair looked to the images Molly would bring up from the past. The changes were more than physical; from how Molly and Beau would treat each other, the name calling and taunts - it was still there, of course, he and the monk still teased one another, but there was an air of maturity growing, and the tiefling noted it was one of a leader. 

He would have analyzed more if the strong knee to his sternum didn’t immediately send him and his train of thought to the floor. He wheezed, knees automatically curling up as he felt for his heart under the thin thread of his druid mentor’s healing. 

“Oh fuck!” Beau gasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Molly, I’m sorry!” She fell to her knees beside him, her hands awkwardly hovering over his chest. “I went too high, I’m sorry - fuck!” 

Mollymauk’s mind reeled back to that afternoon if only for a minute as the pain dulled, and he blinked back into the room where they trained, his friend looking more panicked now than he felt. “Ow,” he said, trying to give a smile. “At least you didn’t aim low. I actually use that down there.” 

Her eyes trailed down to his crotch, her face turning from concern to outright peeved. “Fuck you, Molly.” She adjusted her hair bun and slapped her palms to her thighs. “Are you all right?” 

“Well,” he thought aloud, “I’m sweaty and bruised - not in the nice way, on the floor half naked next to a lesbian.” He nodded. “Aye, I’m doing quite fine, but it could be better.” 

The tiefling shielded his face from the flurry of slaps. 

“You’re an ass,” Beau said, covering a laugh. She slid to her side, laying down next to him. 

“Mm,” he mused back. “Increasingly so, it seems.” 

They lay on the cold floor in silence. Mollymauk let his head roll to the side, watching Beau - whose eyes were open, staring straight up at the blank ceiling high above them, her breathing was practiced and timed. She was quick to get lost in thought; her brow twitched involuntarily when she was mulling over the same topic that the two were having before the sparring match. 

“You’re looking at me,” she whispered. “It’s creeping me out.” 

“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Mollymauk said, tucking his arm under his cheek. Beau looked at him, eyes wide. 

“It’s not that easy.” 

“Sure it is. Just go up and invite her to do something with you; the worst she can say is no, thank you. But I doubt Miss Jester would reject the offer.” 

“I’ll hit you again, I swear -” 

“Do it then,” he taunted, rolling back as Beau lifted her leg and swung it over and down where he once laid. She huffed, now on her stomach, and dug her forehead into the ground. 

“Let’s just change the subject, I already know I’m a pussy about it,” she mumbled, flopping her arms out to the side. 

Mollymauk sat up. His knuckles cracked as he folded them in his lap. Entranced by Beauregard’s tattoo, he followed the lines in the pyramid and the jade lines moving around her muscles. He touched a finger to the pyramid that marked the back of his own neck, the all-seeing eye that included one of the many red eyes throughout his body. This tattoo wasn’t something they coincidentally had at the same time, Mollymauk knew, she had got it well after Molly’s death. He didn’t expect Beau to have been so close to the Molly before him judging from the stray memories he had. 

But he could see why he took the blow for her. 

The woman suddenly pushed herself up, sliding her knees under her. “Hey,” she said. “I still, like, have that stuff you gave me.” 

“Stuff?” 

“You wanna do nothing for the rest of the day?” 

Caduceus would be lying if he said he didn’t hear the obnoxious giggling from up in the branches of the oak tree; so he opted not to say anything, and just sat in his garden with a freshly brewed tea, ready to heal some broken bones if either of the two fell off. 

“Beau, Beau, have you… have you _seen_ my hands?” Mollymauk whispered, his tail coiled tightly around a branch. He twitched his fingers; the other fingers slowly caught up to them. 

“Bro, but the ghosts are so bizarre looking. Look at the freaky fish thing,” she replied, pointing up to the spirit that floated by. “Lay down, Molly, you’re not - lay down!” 

Mollymauk laid down. “The tree is breathing, do you feel it?” 

“Do you think... it’s a lady tree?” 

“I can… I can ask it,” the tiefling said, pressing his cheek to the bark. Beau watched him wide-eyed as he just laid there. “The tree says on Miresen, Conthsen, and Yulisen, she is a lady.” 

“Wow.” 

“Aye.” 

“Molly.” 

“Aye.” 

“Your tattoos are fucking me up right now.” 

“These… these shrooms are fucking me up right now,” Mollymauk cackled, shoving his knuckle between his fangs. 

“Like all the fucking eyes are blinking… Stop it,” Beau said. She reached over and smacked the two eye tattoos along his arm like they were mosquitoes. Mollymauk swatted her hands back, unapologetically a little overwhelmed from the amount of spirits barrelling through their line of sight. Spotting the cat and the peacock started to get harder - they’d appear further away than he would ever remember seeing them throughout the months they walked by his side. 

Mollymauk wondered if, after what felt like an eternity, Beau had fallen asleep on her branch. His heartbeat thrummed faster than he could keep count, trying to focus whilst the planes twisted around him. His tail and nails gripped the tree, and a small laugh nervously escaped his lips as he tried to sit upright. It was a little chilly up in the tree for the time of year; he never put on a shirt before he and the monk scampered their way twenty feet in the air. What looked like crimson mist was pulling itself from the sutured scar on his chest, billowing out into the air in front of him. He felt for it. Nothing. Covering the seven inch mark didn’t stop it from coming out from between his fingers either. 

The tiefling felt the presence of the cat prod on by. 

“Hey Molly,” Beau said, her voice was more sober than it was before. 

“Aye, Miss Beauregard?” 

“Your eye is bleeding. Like… I think for real?” 

Mollymauk touched his left eye. Sure enough, a thick, bloody tear dripped down his cheek. “That’s new -” he said, turning to look at his friend. 

Seeing some other version of himself laying behind her - tattooless, short-haired, bare-horned Lucien, flicking his tail like he always did, staring back at him - sent the lavender tiefling backwards off the branch. 

“Thanks for catching me, Mr. Clay,” Mollymauk mumbled, tenderly rubbing the spots from where he bonked into branches on the way down. 

Beauregard all but glided down the trunk of the tree right behind him. “Caduceus! We were, uh, just… stargazing.” 

“Uh-huh,” the firbolg replied, looking at the blood dripping from Mollymauk’s eye. “Just how many mushrooms did you two take?” 

The two of them scoffed. 

“Mushrooms!? No, we weren’t...” 

“What? That’s just,” Mollymauk paused, watching the ostentatious coat of the peacock spirit breeze by; the man circled around Beau, as if examining her outfit, glanced up at him - horn baubles waving in unseen wind - and disappeared as soon as he came. “Oh wow, uh, alrighty, I’m way too high for this. Why are they different - why aren’t they animals?” 

They sat around a small fire within range of Caduceus’ bedroom; Beau drinking the tea the cleric gave her, and Mollymauk sitting - healed - with his face squished between the firbolg’s large hands while his eye was being examined. 

“I think,” Caduceus said, taking a sip of his own tea, “taking too many drugs that let a person peer into the ethereal plane - which wasn’t the smartest idea to do alone in a tree - strained your eye; it already sees that plane, so I could imagine pushing it further could damage it.” 

Beau slapped her thighs. “You’re telling me that Molly and I can’t have a high together anymore? We haven’t even done a cemetery Caduceus, we haven’t even done a cemetery!” 

Mollymauk just let his head be pulled in the directions Caduceus’ hands went while he talked. 

“I’m telling you, you guys should be more careful. I have some medicinal teas that would do a similar trip.” 

“What if Molly wore an eyepatch or something?” 

The tiefling snorted. “That would be a hot look.” 

Beau snorted back, “You’d look like an idiot.” 

Caduceus sighed. “You two best stay here until your high passes. I’ll get some blankets.”


	2. Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on the fact that, when I started campaign 2, I solely stood by the fact that Fjord and Molly were the team's parental roles. They're not very good parents, but they were the parents. You cannot change my mind.  
> Taliesin's Mom Energy is great.
> 
> I did very light proof-reading as I always do (it's amazing I have a BA degree). With the quarantine/social distancing, I should have been writing more, but I find myself staring into the abyss or doing cosplay tests instead. I'm working on it aha. Stay safe everyone! Thank you guys so much for reading, and as always I love you okay bye

Fjord really was a lot stronger than the tiefling vaguely remembered. It could have been the way he used his sword during their latest encounter with a swarm of golems deep in the mountains, or even the way he carried himself both physically and emotionally. Really, Mollymauk thought as he sat crossed leg on top of Fjord’s back as he worked through push-ups, it was just something about him. 

“I think you put on some weight,” Fjord huffed, pushing himself back up for the fifteenth time. 

“Oh, thanks, I’ve been trying to eat better,” Mollymauk replied, his tail timed perfectly to swing under the open space below them. “Mr. Clay makes some hearty meals for being a vegetarian.” 

“That he does,” the half-orc chuckled. He went back down. 

“Beau’s really been working you hard, hasn’t she? You look good.” 

If Mollymauk could see his face, he would see the slight blush - but it could have easily been from the workout. “Thank you,” he said, “it’s pretty motivating; having a goal and all. Fighting the demons from your past is quite hard.” 

“You’re telling me,” Mollymauk laughed. He laid back on Fjord’s shoulder blades, head slightly over his shoulder. “You’ve been worshipping the Wildmother for a while, right?” 

“Aye.” Fjord tried to ignore the tickle Mollymauk’s braid was giving him as it slowly slid off his skin. “She’s a lot better than Uk’otoa, that’s for sure.” 

“She is very powerful; a lot of druids I’ve met honor her a lot. I hear rumors Melora and Sehanine are related. They do have a decent amount in common.” Mollymauk paused, tapping his nose thoughtfully. “Although the Moonweaver is obviously better.” 

Fjord scoffed. 

“I don’t make the rules, Mr. Fjord, I just relay them.” 

“Well,” Fjord said, finishing his set. “If she brought you back this time, I guess I owe her one.” He looked to Mollymauk’s face as the tiefling’s head was making its way over his shoulder inch by inch. It was the other’s turn to blush, carefully constructed with a fanged grin. 

“You flirt.” 

“What? No, if I were flirting I would say I was incredibly impressed with how you crushed that golem’s head with your thighs, but even that is within the parameters of a bro-compliment.” 

“I mean, my thighs are quite something,” Mollymauk agreed, lifting his leg up - which only propelled him over Fjord’s head and onto the floor. “I can’t actually count how many times I end up here on the ground.” There was a deep pause. The lavender tiefling squinted his eyes as Fjord got to his feet. “Did you just call it a ‘bro’ compliment? Fjord, you ignorant slut; it’s not gay if you compliment my thighs - it is expected.” 

“Fine, you have very nice thighs, Molly.” 

“Thank you. You have very nice pectorals.” 

“Caleb’s teaching you anatomy specifics?” 

Mollymauk grinned. “Nonsense - the druids are hardly clothed in the northern forest. Now help me up.” 

“I’m a little intrigued why you chose Melora over, I don’t know, Jester’s god,” Mollymauk said after a break. They had gone off to clean up and change; Mollymauk borrowed one of Yasha’s furs as they walked through the streets of Xhorhas to fetch supplies. It was strange not seeing the sky; knowing it was night, but unable to see the moon. 

“I mean, if we’re being fair, I don’t know if we can call the Traveler a god, per say. I know you haven’t met the guy, but… Jester could be just as powerful without him,” Fjord said, looking over the marketplace. 

“Mr. Clay had that much of an influence on you,” Mollymauk mused, lining up the dots. 

“How do you mean?” 

“You two are close, aye?” 

Fjord picked up some hemp to examine it. “We’re friends.” He really examined that hemp; so finely. Sure was some hemp, he thought, ignoring the pursed smirk of the tousle-haired tiefling rising up next to him. It had just occurred to him that Mollymauk may have grown an inch or two compared to how he remembered him. The heels on his boots didn’t help guess the height, but without Molly’s horns or long coat, it was tough to recall what he looked like before. 

“You’re going to get wrinkles from thinking too hard, Mr. Fjord,” Mollymauk said. “I think that hemp is just fine. From what I’ve seen, and aye, I’ve seen very little, I believe he considers you something a little closer than just a friend.” 

“The hemp?” 

“Mr. Clay, Fjord,” Mollymauk patted the half-orc’s warming cheek. “Stay on target.” 

They bought the hemp rope along with some food for tomorrow’s breakfast, taking their time as the market still bustled. Mollymauk glanced about the city and its people; it was beautiful, he admitted. Certainly one of the prettier cities he had traveled through, and the good people were reminiscent of many in his Circle. 

Something tight gripped his leg through the layers of skirts and pants. The familiar grip of a child - his mind racing back to Maylene, the young girl he returned home in Zadash. 

“Uh, Molly, there’s a kid on you,” Fjord said, stopping as Mollymauk stepped thrice with the child still clinging tightly to the tiefling’s calf. 

“I noticed,” Mollymauk replied, slightly confused. “It may be more common than you think.” Carefully kneeling on his leg that wasn’t restrained, he plucked away the fabric that hid the young drow boy - his white hair was cropped short, curling tight at the top of his head; light red eyes, somewhat matching the tiefling’s shade, darted back and forth from Mollymauk to Fjord. “Hey now,” Mollymauk said softly. “Whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with?” He quickly looked the child over, making sure he wasn’t injured. Fjord eyed the people around them, prepared to clock anyone who may have been chasing the kid. 

The boy replied, but not in any language that Mollymauk understood. 

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” 

“What is it?” Fjord asked. 

“You don’t happen to speak elvish or undercommon, do you?” 

The half-orc grimaced. “I missed those classes, unfortunately.” 

“It’s okay,” Mollymauk said, moving to sit down on the stone with the child - who couldn’t have been older than four, but who knows how elves age. “I’m decent at charades. Do you see his parents around?” 

Fjord looked around at the people in the market. Of course drow were the majority population; no couple nor single adult looked worried about a missing child. “I don’t think so,” he said, kneeling down besides them both, blocking the traffic with his back. Mollymauk was finangling some sounds and hand motions with the kid. “Getting anything?” 

“His name is Selakiir,” Mollymauk replied confidently. 

“How - how did you get that from…” Fjord tossed his hands about, “that.” 

The tiefling eyed the cat spirit sitting next to him. He couldn’t exactly say that Lucien knew a little elvish. He hadn’t told anyone save for Caduceus about his frequent visitors from the ethereal plane. It still didn’t make much sense to him, but he had stopped trying to reason it after his first couple weeks of living. “The, err, druids.” 

“Amazing.” 

Mollymauk nodded. Gods, Fjord was a delight. 

“We should probably find his family before the market shuts down,” Fjord said, collecting their things. 

Mollymauk stood and lifted the boy up to rest on his hip as he glanced about. “We could just ask people if they recognize him, but… I have a distaste for traffickers and I don’t want to risk just giving him to anyone.” 

“Right, I agree. C’mon, follow me,” Fjord said, his hand guiding the tiefling from behind as they pushed through the crowd. The child took an interest to Mollymauk’s hair, his hands padding around the slowly growing horns to the hellebores and snowdrops growing around them. A chubby hand grabbed a fistfull of everything - stems and hair - and pulled. 

He bit back cursing in infernal, worried it would go quite badly if he accidently hellish rebuked a baby. “Hey, hey, don’t pull that,” Mollymauk bartered as Fjord continued to lead. “Look at this,” he said, tapping the gold cuff around his neck. “Isn’t this cool? Yeah? You can see yourself! Wow!” The kid watched his face through the reflection of the necklace. “Where are we going, Fjord?” 

“I remember some sort of school around here. Maybe someone there can recognize the kid and get them home?” 

Mollymauk agreed; the two of them speed walking through the streets, not thinking how they could be potential kidnappers until this toddler was in the arms of his parents. 

“Da,” the dark elf said, waving over at Fjord. The half-orc looked at him, then up at Mollymauk’s face. 

“Oh no,” he said. 

Mollymauk nervously laughed. “Oh no, no, no.” 

“Well, momma, I don’t think I’m ready for kids just yet,” Fjord lightly joked, shaking his head. They stood outside the small schoolhouse. 

The tiefling snorted, catching the child’s attention again and hands went back up to his horns. “Are you sure you don’t want two, maybe three more?” Balancing the kid, he knocked on the door. “Do you want to hold him?” 

Fjord raised his hands up. “I’m alright - I have the bags.” They heard the quick footsteps of people inside. “I have to say though,” he started, watching the baby climb all over Mollymauk’s head. “He does really look like a baby version of Essek.” 

The tiefling lifted the child off his hair, holding him upside down while the baby drow laughed. “Who’s Essek?” 

“Aaah, he’s a very complicated friend from here - it’s a long story,” Fjord replied, turning to the door as a woman opened it. Her white hair was tied back, and a thick pair of spectacles sat on her nose. 

“Can I help you?” she asked, smoothing out her capelet. 

Fjord cleared his throat. “Good evening, ma’am, sorry to bother you at this hour.” 

“Evening classes are in session,” she nodded, “It’s not too late.” 

“Are you by happenstance to be missing a child?” Mollymauk said, adjusting the baby so she didn’t see him dangling it like a doll. “We found him in the market. He’s very fond of flowers.” 

She looked at the kid, a little perplexed, but with a calm resolution coming to her face. “Oh my,” she said, looking back over her shoulder. “Mr. Dhalmass, is this your brother?” 

A couple of seconds later, a young man with similarly curling hair, dressed in a silver and black uniform darted around the doorway. “Selly, what are you doing here?” he said, stepping down to the street to Mollymauk. He whispered something in undercommon to the boy, taking him gently from the tiefling’s arms. “I’m so sorry, he must have followed me out of the house again.” 

“I really wasn’t expecting this to go so smoothly,” Fjord mumbled into Mollymauk’s ear. 

Mollymauk casually lifted his fist to his mouth in a fake cough, “better than suddenly being parents, right?” 

“Thank you,” the young man said, bowing his head. “My family would have killed me.” 

“Oh gods, metaphorically I hope,” Mollymauk replied. He wouldn’t leave kids in an unsafe home. 

“Haha, perhaps, maybe literally,” the teenager said. “You know how parents are.” 

Fjord and Mollymauk dragged out a laugh. “Yeah,” they said together, bumping each other’s shoulders. 

“Well,” Fjord exclaimed, “we best be getting back to our friends. If you ever need anything -” 

“You two are from the large tree estate,” the woman responded. “We’re aware.” 

“Right, aha, okay,” the half-orc shifted to the side. “Uh, have fun in school?” 

The young man, with Selakiir in his arms, nodded thoughtfully. Selakiir, waved his arms frantically, trying to grab onto the fur around Mollymauk’s shoulders. 

“Goodnight, little one,” the tiefling whispered, booping the kid’s nose. He joined Fjord in walking back up the stone paths to the Xhorhaus. Fjord continued to adjust the bag of supplies over his shoulder every time Mollymauk glanced his way. 

“What is it, Molly?” he asked, noting the return of the similar smirk. 

“So about Mr. Clay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Some Emotional Healing  
> (probably. I haven't written the actual prompt down ^^;)


	3. Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit I didn't see this chapter going this route. I had a rough idea of what I wanted to do and things I wanted to be said and wow I made myself emotional.  
> Speaking of emotional, I hear my mother crying in her bedroom over Korean dramas.  
> Anyway, this was a chapter Molly3 needed - both for himself and, y'know, for plot reasons. These may be out of order one-shots but I'll be damned if they don't foreshadow.

Yasha’s room was always a little cramped with the two of them sharing. Since Mollymauk arrived at the house, the barbarian was determined to have him stay with her in the meantime. She was used to his sleep patterns; the thrashing and the talking, and let him coil himself between her and the wall on her bed. 

It was the middle of the night, possibly between three and four, when Yasha felt her friend inhale sharply and the weight of the pillow shifted as the tiefling sat up. She quietly listened to him breathe. Hearing the small thud of bone leaning on the stone wall, she moved her hand to rest on his thigh. 

“Hey there,” she whispered. Her hair was a mess about the pillows, but nothing she ever paid much mind to. 

Mollymauk moved his hand over hers, enjoying the wall’s cool surface on his forehead. “Sorry,” he replied, his fingernail lightly rubbing over the aasimar’s knuckles. 

She propped herself up on an elbow. “Was it the same dream?” 

The tiefling rubbed around the scar that ran down his sternum, and shook his head. “No,” he said, “it was different this time.” His hand drifted to his ribcage, following the lines to his side until he felt the cold ice that formed around a small wound. “I don’t remember scratching myself.” 

With Yasha looking slightly more concerned, Mollymauk pulled his legs out from under the blankets, scooting around the woman even as she got up to follow him to the mirror. The ice covered more than what a nail could do. His dream felt a little more real - picturing the man in black, his face like a bird as he shot himself towards Mollymauk, daggers drawn. 

“There’s some stone here that’s chipped away,” Yasha said, examining the wall. “You could have cut yourself when you shifted positions.” 

“Aye, probably,” Mollymauk replied, the ice forming back over the part he scratched away. 

Yasha sat on the mattress, watching the tiefling stare absently through himself in the mirror, framed by the painted flowers on the walls around him. “Molly, why don’t you come back to bed, it’s too early to be awake.” 

Mollymauk eyed his off-color iris and the strange veins around it. It started to water, the fire of a dying candle flickering in the reflections. “Molly’s not here right now, can I take a message?” he whispered back, wiping his hands over his face. He stepped to his right, making his way to the door that led out to a shared porch between the women of the house. Yasha was right behind him. 

“Do you want to talk about it? Your dream?” she asked, draping a heavy blanket over his bare shoulders. “I’ve never seen you like this before; Molly, please talk to me.” She waited while Mollymauk fiddled with his fingernails, trying to find something out in the distance that wasn't there. 

“This man - thing,” he whispered. “He talked to me like he knew me.” 

“You didn’t recognize him?” 

“No, I…” Mollymauk couldn’t say if either Lucien or Molly knew him either. “I don’t think so - I don’t know. But the way he looked at me was - you know when Mr. Caleb gets mad? He had his eyes - those eyes, but _dark_. Everything about it was _dark_.” 

Yasha leaned against the railing, wiping the rogue tears that escaped from his lashes. “What did he do? Did he attack you?” 

“He said I was cheating?” Mollymauk replied, looking past her. “He told me I was out of this - this game. And he was there to take me back.” 

“Back where?” 

His shoulders suddenly shuddered. “Probably back to that hole,” he whimpered, covering his face. He didn’t want to wake anyone. He didn’t want to be a bother. He felt Yasha’s arms fully embrace him, bringing him in as they huddled on the floor of the porch. He breathed sharply, pressing his fingers between his horns. “I shouldn’t be here.” 

“Of course you should, Molly, of course you should be here,” Yasha cooed, massaging her fingers into his hair. The edge of his growing horns pressed uncomfortably into her collarbone, but she didn’t move. 

“But I’m not -” he bit his lip, cursing himself for starting this. Might as well finish it, a thought came. His voice dropped to a breath rivalling the silence of the city around them, “I’m not Molly.” 

Yasha rested her cheek on the flowers growing around his hair. Of the million and one things running through her mind, she didn’t quite know how to respond to that. The tiefling she held was certainly one she had held before; sure some things were different, she didn’t understand how Caduceus’ spell changed things, but minus a few details, this was still definitely Molly. “What do you mean?” she asked, stroking the long strands of hair that cascaded down the tieflings back. 

He guessed if someone were to know next, it might as well have been Yasha - she was the closest one to the soul that now popped in and out of the ethereal plane to follow him and others around. “I mean,” he said, trying to find words. “Lucien is to Molly as Molly is to me. The main difference is that I can remember some things - somehow - from both of them. Well, moreso Molly than I do Lucien.” 

Yasha was quiet. She didn’t move. 

“Your Molly died protecting his friends; you all mourned him,” he kept going. His face was hot, the tears burning into his cheeks. “I’m the one that came out of that hole empty of everything, but - but I had _things_ to work with - shards of memory to work with. I feel every ounce of his pain, Yasha, I am so sorry - he loved you all so m-much.” 

Yasha slowly lifted Mollymauk from her bosom, hands on his shoulders. She studied his face. 

“And everytime you guys call me ‘Molly’ I just think of him, and I’m _trying_ to be him, he’s part of me - but I’m also part of me and I can’t keep up with everything -” 

“Mollymauk.” 

“-I don’t want to keep lying to you all! But I don’t want your memory of him to fade, he’d be so angry with me. I shouldn’t have been able to come out of that hole, I don’t understand how I woke up -” 

“Mollymauk!” Yasha shook his shoulders. 

He probably looked like an idiot, he thought, sniffing. 

The aasimar took a moment to breathe, her heart was loud. She wiped Mollymauk’s face with her sleeve until it was clean again, if not a little puffy. “You want to be called ‘Mollymauk.’” 

“It’s,” he replied, following her breathing, “what the letter said I was.” 

“Okay,” she said. She moved a tuft of his hair away from his face. He looked back at her like a child. “My name is Yasha Nydoorin.” 

“I… I know you,” Mollymauk replied, confused. 

A sliver of a tear slipped down the side of Yasha’s face. “And I would like to get to know a little more about you,” she said. “I’m sorry we’ve been blind to your differences.” Nodding to herself, she admitted, “I can see you’re not Molly, and that’s okay.” 

He sniffled again, “I’m just a broken part of him,” he said - he quickly learned he didn’t like seeing Yasha cry. 

“Mollymauk, you are nothing less than _whole_.” 

Outside was cold with winter settling in, but between the thick blanket and his friend, his body was on fire. They knelt there on the wooden balcony in silence for a long time. Rosohna was lit dimly with lanterns in the distance, they danced in the blur of their vision. 

“I fought back against the thing in my dream,” he said, leaning back against Yasha’s chest. “I don’t want to return to wherever he thought he was trying to bring me. I want to stay right here.” He coiled his arms around her back and locked his fingers together. 

“I don’t want you to return either,” Yasha replied, tucking her hands under him to pick him up. “Unless it is to sleep; you are exhausted.” 

“No, I’m not,” he mumbled into her hair while she opened the door and led them back inside the warm room. He was asleep before she reached the bed. 

She sat on the edge of the mattress again, letting the tiefling drape himself over her. Biting her lip, she blinked back the rest of the tears that formed while Mollymauk spilt all of his secrets to her. Yasha knew she had already mourned the loss of Molly, her first friend, her family. She felt the steady heartbeat of the one she held against her own, it was the same heart; the eyes that bore into her, albeit a different shade, still held the emotion she remembered; the way his ears flicked was still the same. Sure, Mollymauk was not Molly, she thought while the man mumbled incoherently into her neck, but Molly was definitely Mollymauk. 

“When you wake up,” she whispered, watching them through the mirror, “I want you to tell me all your favorite things. Like your favorite flower, and your favorite hobbies. I’ll tell you mine; and we can go on a crazy trip together and make new memories. I’d like to know about this Ku’ra you mention in your dreams; I can tell you about Zuala - you remind me so much of her.” 

“I’d like that,” Mollymauk breathed, listening to the flowers sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my IG story (@nerenight) to vote on who goes next! I'll be putting it up tomorrow evening.


	4. Pampered & Polished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jester won the poll on my Instagram! Which I sort of wasn't expecting, but was kinda hoping for since I at least had a small idea of what I wanted to write about. Jester's personality is partly inspired by my Messy Nein cosplay group's Jester, and our stupid tiefling jokes we have for each other.   
> I also let it drop on my story, so I lovingly feel obliged to let you know that there will be a third book to this series. It'll be more like a novel plot similar to book one, ie. being long, and some of the foreshadowing and teases are and will be mixed throughout this book.   
> I just needed this one to let some of those personal moments in because I love all the Nein and Molly3 needs some one on one loving and character development with everyone as an individual. 
> 
> As always, I love you guys! Enjoy the tiefling siblings!

Jester shuffled through the shelves of incense, looking for the one her mother would put on whenever either of them had a stressful day. It was in a blue box, but half of these boxes were blue, and she refused to open each one to check the label. 

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Mollymauk asked. He was laying across the chaise, face covered in the home-made face mask Jester had whipped up. It fizzled slightly, making his cheeks tingle. 

“No, no, no, I got it, don’t worry!” she replied, whipping out the box she was confident held the Nag Champa incense sticks. “I am so smart - this is the one!” She skipped over to a side-table and dragged it to the center of the room where she had created an in-house spa. 

They were in Nicodranas, inside the Lavish Chateau where Jester took over her mother’s room whilst she performed, and the rest of the Nein split up on various errands of their own. The tieflings had nothing to do in the port city, but Jester was keen on making most of their evening. She lit the incense and let the calming scent float through the room. 

“How is that?” she asked, sitting next to Mollymauk on a rug fluffy enough to be a bed. “I’m going to keep going if you’re ready!” 

“Mm, it smells nice; and, uh, aye, I’m ready,” he said, letting his arm fall back out. “You said you all have this on you?” 

Jester dipped her tattoo pen back into the ink, finding the spot where she was doodling a Captain Tusktooth between the array of other illustrations up his left arm. “Oh yeah,” she lied. “Part of the crew, y’know? Plus it’s super cute. Can I add to your back too? I have this crazy idea since I’ve been wanting to practice magic tattoos.” 

Mollymauk hummed through the dull pain. “If you want to,” he said. “Just be careful?” 

“Of course, Molly, I’m a _cleric_.” She tugged lightly on his tail before he could retort back, earning a defeated sigh. “So, we were talking about why you were so embarrassed yesterday,” Jester said, wiggling her shoulders. “With Mister Caleb.” 

Washing off the face mask with his free hand, Mollymauk left the towel on his face. “Jester, he was shirtless with his harness on - how could I _not_ have choked on the wine? His tiddies were right there!” 

“Your tiddies are out all the time, Molly, maybe you make him blush,” Jester replied, wiping the excess ink off and inspecting her work. She let out a loud, almost horrified gasp. Mollymauk sat up quickly, ripping the towel off his face. 

“What? What is it?” 

“We can pierce your nipples today,” she said, her smile only growing. 

A look of horror flashed across the lavender tiefling’s face. “Are you even qualified to do that?” he asked, panicked as she got up, her skirts spinning wildly. “Miss Jester!” He got up after her, trying to avoid her as she pulled a box of needles out, along with some rings and studs. “You’ve gone mad!” 

“I’m surprised you never had them before, Molly, you’d look, like, super cool,” she said, finicking through the pile. “I’m thinking about this one.” She picked up a small studded hoop. “It kind of looks like the Moonweaver’s emblem, right?” 

“That is quite nice,” he replied, voice softer as he looked at it closer. The situation slapped him in the face again as he stepped back, covering his chest. “I mean - no!” 

Jester pouted, slowly sitting down on the rug again. “Fine, fine. I guess we can just talk about what you want to wear for dinner. I was thinking we can all dress up nice, like if we were at a party or something.” She pretended not to eye Mollymauk as he descended down to sit in front of her, hands still over his chest. Glancing at his druid skirts, she pointed at one of the designs that glittered under the light of the chandeliers. “You painted these yourself right? They’re so pretty!” 

Mollymauk looked at the phoenix painting on one panel of the skirt, its wings back like it was taking flight. “Oh, aye. I like painting, it’s very relaxing.” 

“Me too! I’ve been working on your tarot deck… I’m not done, but I’ll have to show you when we get back to Xhorhas. I left them in my room,” she sighed, her tail pushing the box of needles closer. “I’ve noticed the peacock on the other side! It kinda matches the one from your coat!” 

“Does it? That’s an odd coincidence,” he said, hands glossing over the blue and green paint. “Though I suppose that makes sense after all. Come to think of it, I added a cat’s paw here too-aAH-!” Any sort of explanation he was going to go off on was completely cut off as Jester poked the needle through his left nipple. His hands clapped over his mouth as a stream of infernal licked at his lips. Jester, lips pursed, eyes wide like she did nothing wrong, kept eye-contact while hooping the crescent ring through. 

“Evil,” he whispered in infernal. 

“I mean it looks pretty awesome to me,” she taunted back. They squinted at each other for a moment longer. 

“Well you might as well do the other one,” he said, “I can’t go around looking like a coward with one tit pierced.” 

She did it again with a stud that gave the illusion of the triple moon, the tip of Mollymauk’s nipple as the center. “This isn’t blasphemous is it?” 

“Miss Jester, I think she’d like it honestly. I have to say, with all your trickery and misdirection, you’d really fit right in with the Moonweaver.” 

“The Traveler is obviously more chaotic and _more cooler_ , but I appreciate the compliment.” 

Mollymauk gently rubbed his areolas. “My bobbies hurt now.” 

“I’m sure my momma has some cream for your tig ol’ bitties,” Jester said, getting back up to snoop through her mother’s things. 

“Tatty bo jangles,” he snorted. 

“Nipple holsters,” she snickered. 

The door to the bedroom swung open, causing both tieflings to pause where they were, Mollymauk moving only to cover his sore chest again. The tall, curvy, red tiefling looked between the both of them, to the floor with the body jewelry up at the half naked Mollymauk, over to her daughter who was climbing up her shelves. 

“Well,” Marion Lavorre said lightly, “I suppose I know what the poor scream was about now.” She stepped in, holding a square box, and shut the door behind her. “Are you alright, darling? My daughter hasn’t cut those off has she?” 

“Aye, Miss Marion, I’m alright. Sorry for disturbing you,” Mollymauk replied, getting to his feet. “These are still in one piece, I think.” He lifted his hand back. Marion bent down - she was wearing one of her taller pairs of heels - and looked the piercing over. 

“It’s not a bad job,” she said, nodding to her daughter. I have some solution that will help it heal faster. Jester, dear, it’s the mint glass vial on the second shelf.” 

They sat along her canopy bed, Marion gently cleaning up around the piercings while Jester talked about their spa evening, from herbal baths to horn care, and Jester tapped at the box Marion placed on a chest with anticipation. Mollymauk glanced at it, wondering at its unusual size, but gave his attention back to the Ruby as she explained proper care of the new piercings. 

He really liked Jester’s mother. She was attentive and gentle; she had an elegance that perfectly masked the moments she was caught off guard. Jester shared her mother’s apple-cheeks when she smiled. It was quite endearing. 

“How was your day, Miss Marion?” he asked, letting himself lean back on her mattress while she put the vial down. 

“I think,” she said, tapping her chin lightly, “I would consider it a fairly busy day. Enjoyable though. I had the pleasure to speak with some old companions of mine again for a favor.” Marion looked over at Jester. “My little sapphire wrote me ahead of your visit, you see. We thought we’d think of a little gift for you.” 

Mollymauk sat back up, off guard. “A gift? You two didn’t have to do anything - your company is a gift enough.” 

“Think nothing of it,” Marion insisted. “I had fun designing it with my daughter.” She walked over to where the blue tiefling bounced up and down excitedly behind the box. 

Jester clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Can you open it now? I’ve only been waiting all day!” 

Sliding off the bed, Mollymauk took two steps over to the package, scanning it quickly for context clues, but the detailing was simple, and the words on it were not any that Mollymauk could presently read in the curly font. He glanced up at the two women who half-patiently waited for him to lift the top off. 

To say he wasn’t expecting what sat delicately inside on a velvet cushion would be an understatement. 

He almost didn’t know how to go about picking it up: metallic silver wire and mithral plated headpiece, like armor, the front decorated with tiny druidic prayers along the edges, the center sat a sparkling, enchanted amethyst. It was beautiful, though - what caused his heart to swell were the two curving hollow horns that swirled out of the front. Some parts were wholly covered with the mithral plating, and connected to another piece through the weaving wirework. 

“I thought, since your horns are growing back, that we commissioned a brace to help them follow the shape you had before! And, y’know, keep you protected because we love you and obviously want you safe. The gem acts like a barrier, so you can take hits better, but also please don’t go being stupid if you think you’ll be invinsible - it’s more like Caleb’s shield spell. We don’t know what the words say, but, like, the dude said he would copy them from some parchments he had-” 

“Jester,” Marion said softly to quiet her down. She slipped a small handkerchief out from her brassiere and dabbed the tears pooling at the edge of Mollymauk’s eyes. “Tiefling to tiefling. Would you like to try it on?” 

They placed it over his head, the two front edges covering the sides of his faces just past his jaw, the forehead piece lay delicately around his freshly polished horn nubs - which perfectly aligned with the curve of the horns, so that they would grow within them - the gem in the center glittered in the room’s light. He gawked at himself in the mirror. The horns, though hollow, wrapped back behind his ears and came back forward. His head was perfectly framed. 

“They’re…” he whispered. 

“Perfect? Beautiful? The most fabulous horns you’ve ever seen - besides my momma’s of course -?” Jester said, showing up next to him in the mirror, her own horns - tightly curled atop her head - contrasted Marion’s wide, backwards sloping horns. 

“They’re mine,” Mollymauk said, following the shape with his fingers. “I didn’t know what they looked like before.” 

They were Lucien’s horns and Molly’s horns - the one thing he was robbed of sharing with them from the second he woke up. Mollymauk’s nose stung trying to blink back the encore of emotion building up inside. He watched the blue tiefling snuggle her arms around his waist. 

“Do you like it?” she asked, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. 

He sniffed, huffing out a much needed breath while locking eyes with Jester. “Do I _like_ it? Jester,” he laughed, “they match the nipple rings _perfectly_.” 

She giggled. “Only the best matching set for my favorite tief tiddies.” 

Her mother discreetly covered a snort as she walked back to her bed to remove her shoes, changing for the night show. 

While he couldn’t stop staring at his reflection, Mollymauk was forcibly removed from the sight of the mirror by Jester’s ridiculous strength as she dragged him over to Marion once more. 

“Momma, he needs something to wear for dinner tonight! Do you still have that silk tunic with the boob window?” Jester asked, throwing the wardrobe doors open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His horned headpiece idea has been engraved in my head ever since I ran across a photo on Twitter about tiefling horn helmets for those who didn't have horns anymore and UGH my heart and soul just went BAM. I have no idea where that photo is now... it's been at least a year since I've seen it. I'll share it to my IG if I find it... 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. One Cup of Serotonin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your comments, I love reading them - they make my day. And thank you for your patience! Despite being out of work, I find myself busy writing other things too, such as information for my d&d character to give to my DM, and writing the plot for a One Shot I'm creating for my friends that I'm going pretty overboard with.  
> With everything happening, I just wanted to write a soft, easy chapter. Only happy things. And Mr. Clay and Molly3 can supply that! Just Veth and Caleb left to go before the final two mystery chapters!   
> Trying to keep these chapters to 3-4 pages on Google Docs is actually quite hard - I'm so used to 7 minimum for a fic chapter. I guess it's a prep break for the monstrosity of the next book of the series....

_Mr. Clay would help_ , Mollymauk thought, rolling onto his back. He was laying on his own bed, in the previous guest room that his friends surprised him with as his own. It was decorated with iconography across the walls on ways of tapestries, paintings, and relics hanging from the ceiling. There were plenty of candles; the smell mixed with incense made the room incredibly potent. His bed was full of pillows and Yasha’s handwoven blankets that were softer than anything he had ever laid on before. Sitting atop a small table was the headpiece Jester and her mother gifted him - he would spend hours staring at it in the evenings after he took it off. 

Mollymauk looked up at the ceiling. It was one of his favorite places in the room. Mr. Caleb spent hours enchanting the night sky onto the stone canopy. The stars twinkled and moved about the room, bursts of sky ribbons flowing from one corner to the other danced in waves as they went. The center of the ceiling sat a small dome, in which the current phase of the moon outside displayed warmly and bright. It glowed in its waning gibbous phase, having not yet risen in the outside world. 

The tiefling tilted his head over the edge of his bed frame, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together in circles as he thought. There really wasn’t much he could offer them in return. The amount of work the Nein put into making him feel at home was immense, and the things he could do in return were not great. He let his arms out until his hands caught the floor, and flipped himself over an upright position. Tucking himself into a loose robe, he shimmied out his door and made his way up to Caduceus’ garden. 

It was late in the afternoon, and half the crew were out meandering or in their rooms. Caduceus was elbows deep into the soil, perhaps planting or just enjoying the wet dirt, Mollymauk couldn’t quite place. He had an apron on; his light pink hair tied up into a bun beneath a hat that he didn’t really need. 

“Mr. Clay?” the tiefling said, hesitating by the ladder’s opening. “Can I talk to you?” 

The firbolg, tilting his head back as he looked over his shoulder, smiled. “Ah, of course. I’m just watering the deep soil. It makes a better environment -” 

“For fungus,” Mollymauk nodded, walking over. It was getting ever colder outside. “You’re growing mushrooms? Any specific kind?” 

“Porcino hopefully,” Caduceus replied. He moved his tail for Mollymauk to sit next to him. “I think they look very nice. And it tastes delicious. Although oysters may do better with the cold.” He gave a playful shrug. “I guess we will wait a few days and see, won’t we?” Pulling his arms out of the soil, he gently patted the particles off his hands. “Everything okay?” 

Mollymauk’s tail thumped the ground. “Aye, everything is fine. I’m just having a problem - err - a dilemma I should say.” 

Caduceus crossed his legs, “what kind of dilemma? Is it your eye? Dreams?” 

Through clenched teeth, the lavender tiefling gave a painfully awkward laugh. “I think that would be more straightforward to deal with, Mr. Clay.” Shrinking into the folds of his robe, he added, “I want to do something nice for the Nein. I’ve been like a familiar stranger coming back to them, but they’ve all been so kind and welcoming; giving me things I hardly deserve. I want to return the favor, but I’m at a loss…” 

After a quiet moment, Caduceus tapped his chin. “You know,” he said, “there has been a dish I’ve been wanting to make, but it’s basically impossible to do alone with the time we have.” 

“But I’ve never cooked in a kitchen before,” Mollymauk said, following the man as he got up to wash his hands. “I’ve hardly cooked at all.” 

“Anyone can cook,” Caduceus replied, patting the tiefling’s shoulder. “Follow me.” 

Tying an apron around his waist, Mollymauk squeezed his way between Caduceus and the kitchen wall, looking at the pile of ingredients at hand. 

“Let’s start with some appetizers, okay?” Caduceus exclaimed. “I think a fresh bread would be nice in addition to it. What would you like to have as the first course, Mr. Mollymauk?” He gestured to the table. 

“What would _I_ like?” he quietly repeated, eyeing the vegetables and spices. “Ku’ra always made a wicked mean potato soup.” 

“Ooh, creamy and hearty, I like that,” Caduceus nodded. He picked up some potatoes as well as cauliflower, onion, and garlic. “We can do a cauliflower potato soup - there are some leftover vegetable pieces from yesterday to use for stock. Let’s put that on the fire.” 

Mollymauk gave himself the duty of cutting the vegetables - something he knew he was gifted in doing, which was wielding sharp objects. He chopped up the extra cauliflower for the curry Caduceus was whipping the spices together for. They shaped the risen dough like a turtle and gently placed it over the makeshift oven on the coal side of the hearth. 

Fjord went to open the door, but Caduceus pushed back at it, promptly locking the confused half-orc out. 

“What made you like cooking so much, Mr. Clay?” Mollymauk asked, trying his hand at making yogurt for a drink of his own design. 

“I have many sisters,” he laughed in reply. “And none of them are really the domestic sort. I also think it’s a heartwarming way to express yourself. You put your heart and soul into creating something that will be gone soon, but your friends and family enjoy it while it lasts. And I believe everything tastes better after you’ve worked on it for so long.” He dumped the spices and vinegar into the pot with the vegetables, letting them all boil within the stock. The room smelled delicious. “Tell me what you’re working on?” 

“Ah, I figured if the curry was spicy, something sweet should go with it. I was going to add fruit, but I can’t decide between mango or banana. What do you think?” 

“Which do you like more?” 

Mollymauk looked at the table. “I think I prefer the banana.” 

“Sounds delicious,” Caduceus agreed. “Look at you, you’re doing great!” 

The tiefling beamed to himself as he whisked. 

They watched the turtle bread rise to its full power - becoming gold and fat, and somewhat deformed, but Mollymauk found it outright delightful. 

“I’m going to go set the table - can you watch the curry?” Caduceus asked, cleaning his hands off. Mollymauk nodded and watched him leave the kitchen. His eyes darted to the mortar and pestle, and again to an unused pot for boiling water. Throwing himself across the kitchen, he reached up into his hair. 

“Is this a special occasion? A holiday I didn’t know about?” Bearegard asked, sitting down at the table. Mollymauk, changed into something more appropriate by his standards, lit the candles around them. 

“Ja, this is quite a nice setting for just Da'leyson, Mollymauk,” Caleb said, eyeing the grinning tiefling from his seat. 

Fjord huffed. “They were being sneaky in the kitchen all through the evening.” 

“We were _not_ ,” Mollymauk retorted, bopping the half-orc on the head. He stepped back into the kitchen where Caduceus was plating the dishes. “They’re getting ravenous out there.” 

“It’s almost like they’ve never had a sit down dinner before. I am insulted,” Caduceus said, shaking his head with a smile. “I think you did a great job today - I’m excited to eat.” 

Mollymauk picked up the drinks from the ice box. “I made sure not to throw some liquor into some of these, so you, Jester, and Veth should have the mocktails.” 

“Thank you.” 

“And there was another thing. Something I made you,” the tiefling said, moving some pots aside with his tail. 

Caduceus set down the bowls he held; an eyebrow quirked up. “For me?” 

“Aye, I mean - we didn’t know each other before, I mean with Molly. And I know you meant well with your whole spell on the grave,” he said, lifting the now dried bag from its hidden place in a basket. “Frankly, you grew these, or rather, we did, but uh, here.” Mollymauk dropped the silk bag into the firbolg’s hands. He had filled it with the flowers that budded around his horns and around his hair; prepping them to be loose flower tea while the other wasn’t looking. 

Caduceus sifted through the dried flowers carefully. Lifting the bag to his nose, he gave a whiff. “The fragrance is unlike anything I’ve smelled before,” he said, nodding. “And I’ve smelled a lot of interesting tea.” He took a moment, considering the gift, and tucked it into his shirt. “Thank you, Mr. Mollymauk, this is a great gift I can’t repay you enough for.” 

Mollymauk smirked, lifting the soup bowls so they balanced on his arm. “Just living up to my last name, Mr. Clay. Now shall we feed this motley crew?” 

“After you, Chef,” Caduceus replied, picking up the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so many of my friends are making cool bread, but i don't know how to make bread. it looks yummy though!  
> i researched vegetarian recipes for this chapter; turns out a lot of what i ate in Scotland would befit what the Nein had,, the UK likes Indian food... minus the spices.


	6. Bookmark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time really flies in bizarre ways for me. Thanks for your patience! I hope to continue to bring some soft Molly content while also squeezing in foreshadowing here and there. I could have gone so far in another direction for this chapter. My friend who cosplays Caleb got a mini smut version in his Feather Leather journal back in March. But as much as I, and apparently many of my IG friends, would love if the two of them just WENT HAM, they're unfortunately more complex for this story...

Caleb was letting his beard grow out; Mollymauk could tell from the short little prickles that tickled his neck everytime the wizard would lean in to take a look at his work. Every other night, the tiefling and human would sit to practice writing. They struck a deal early on to exchange writing lessons with Druidic language lessons, although either of them would have done their share for nothing in exchange. 

They sat in Caleb’s room, the fireplace cackling on the far end, casting an orange light along the walls. The desk was piled with books and scrolls, some carefully moved out of the way to fit some parchment and ink for Mollymauk to go back to scratching out the alphabet by memory. 

“Does this G look bad to you?” Mollymauk asked, setting the quill down - It took him a week just to figure out how to properly hold it. Caleb shifted from his place along the edge of his bed, book in hand, and walked over; his stubble grazing Mollymauk’s ear. The tiefling flicked some hair behind it, discreetly rubbing the spot that now tingled. 

“Nein, I don’t think so.” 

“I didn’t make it too fancy? Sort of looks like a J?” 

Caleb laughed. “Nein, nein, some people normally do that. That’s very good. Keep working on connecting the letters together and you’ll have a very fine script.” 

Mollymauk picked up his last parchment, scribbled over with practice words. “Alright, give me another one.” 

The wizard walked back over to the novel sitting open on the blankets. Mollymauk watched him flip through the pages for some inspiration. His two frequent spirits had set themselves about the room - the peacock fluffed up near the fire, watching the two cheerfully; the cat curled up, feigning sleep atop Caleb’s pillows. Frumpkin, who sat at the foot of the bed, flicked his tail in agitation. 

“Consecution,” Caleb said aloud. Lucien’s ears picked up. 

Mollymauk grimaced. “Maybe something shorter… or something that even Beau could spell.” 

“Fjord level?” 

“Maybe not that low,” he joked back, brushing the feather under his nose. “C’mon then!” 

The wizard flipped a few more pages. “How about ‘phoenix’?” 

“Oh!” Mollymauk turned back in his seat, dipping the quill into ink. “Is that one when P and H make an F sound?” He smiled as Caleb nodded, picking up Frumpkin to stick his face into. The tiefling carefully scratched the first two letters into the woven paper and paused. Putting an E next seemed too easy. His eyes quickly darted around the desk, as if something of Caleb’s work had the word already written down. 

“Stuck already?” 

“No,” Mollymauk lied. He put the pen back to the paper and dragged the line up - and paused. “Fuck. It’s a vowel, I know it is.” 

Caleb knelt down next to him so that Frumpkin now could bump his head into the tiefling’s arm and use it as a rubbing post. “Ja, it’s a vowel. Which one?” 

“Not an E.” 

“Correct,” Caleb said, looking up at him patiently. “What other combinations make the long E sound?” 

“Mr. Caleb, I have to say, I think Druidic is easier than Common; why is the language so ridiculous-” 

“Mollymauk,” Caleb mused. “There aren’t many vowels left, you can do this.” 

The tiefling picked the quill back up and scribbled the rest of an O. He glanced over for approval. He got the nod. He added an E. The nod continued. With a flair, he curved the N-I-X with a final squeak of the feather tip. Caleb held Frumpkin’s paws in his hands and gave a clap. 

“Ja! You did it!” he whispered cheered, as if it was the familiar speaking. Mollymauk cackled, fluffing the cat’s fur around the ears. 

They spent the next minute just petting Frumpkin. The cat shifted from Caleb’s arms onto Mollymauk’s lap, content on finding the softest surface to nap since a foreign invader took over the bed. Caleb sat back on the ground, his back to his bed frame. He watched the two of them get comfortable in the small chair, smiling when 

Mollymauk stopped moving as Frumpkin stretched and yawned in-between his thighs. 

“I’m sorry,” Mollymauk whispered. “I can’t move.” 

“Ja, it would seem you are stuck there,” Caleb whispered back. He carefully grabbed a journal from the corner of the desk. “We can do Druidic lessons from here, I don’t mind.” He set up his small working space around him, dipping his quill into the pot he placed on the floor. 

“You have a whole ritual set up there, I am impressed,” Mollymauk said. “So, we already discussed Waelan and all that history stuff, aye? What would you like me to illegally tell you now?” 

Caleb snorted, a quiet one, but it was there. “Let’s try some pronunciation? I’m curious to see if I could do it despite the Zemnian accent.” 

Frumpkin was being gently traced with Mollymauk’s finger while he thought. “I’ve heard you speak Sylvan; I think you have a very talented tongue; among other things, of course.” He felt his ears burn with every word that came out of his mouth. He heard the peacock begin to unfurl its feathers - but he was trying very hard not to look outright crazy to chuck a book at empty air. “Aye, right. Pronunciation.” 

“Do you want to try spelling that?” Caleb asked, a small glint in his eye. 

“Oh har har,” Mollymauk replied. “No.” 

“Mollymauk,” the human said, derailing the topic. “I am quite amazed at how fast of a learner you are. Multiple languages and training within two very different ways of life is not easy, and you have only been on this earth for hardly a year-” 

“Today, actually?” Mollymauk added, cupping Frumpkin’s face in his open palm. 

“Wie bitte?” 

“I crawled out of the ground a year ago - today.” 

Caleb set his quill down. “Ah,” he said. “Happy birthday. I - I wish we had known, I would have gotten you something.” 

Mollymauk dismissed him with a careful shake of his head. “Think nothing of it - I’ve been gifted by you all many times over. Tapadh leat.” 

The wizard’s head perked, his hand immediately drawing back to his ink. “Tapadh leat. That means…?” 

“It means ‘thank you.’ It’s considered rude if you don’t thank a druid or friend for your time with them; usually accompanies goodbyes. I forgot that sometimes; looked like a proper ass,” Mollymauk mused. 

“Were they kind to you?” Caleb asked, nose down into his writing. 

“Aye, aye, Ku’ra promptly called me the Moonweaver’s child placed in their foster care. She meant it lovingly of course. The other Moon circle druids found me fun, I think. Learning spells was unlike anything I imagined.” 

Caleb chuckled. “Perhaps we may teach each other more than just tongues, ja?” 

Mollymauk swallowed. “Like… physically?” 

“Going over spell scrolls is not that difficult once you get used to it…” the wizard went on, finishing up his notes on druidic thank yous. Mollymauk glanced down at the familiar in his lap; Frumpkin glanced up, as if giving him a shrug. 

“Right, spell scrolls. Aye, that would be nice,” Mollymauk said. His gaze trailed over to the massive fan of feathers that slowly bounced between them. His face flushed indigo, kicking his heel out to hit the spirit’s phasible face, prompting Frumpkin to jump off his lap. Mollymauk fell into a split on the stone floor. The spirit bounced away, disappearing into the wall. 

“Scheiße, are you okay?” 

“Sorry, there was, uh, I saw some gross ethereal plane thing. It’s gone now.” Mollymauk peaked over to where his back foot wedged into the chair frame. “This is certainly a new pose to be stuck in. Not sure it counts for one of Beauregard’s meditation stretches.” 

Caleb got to his feet. “Let me try and help,” he said, tucking his arms underneath Mollymauk’s own and lifting him up; the tiefling hoisted himself by the human’s shoulders, which were sturdier than he imagined them. Carrying all those tomes in his holsters most likely, he thought to himself. “How do you ask someone how they are?” Caleb asked, making sure Mollymauk was sturdy on his feet. 

“Um, you could say it: ‘Ciamar a tha thu, a ghràidh?’ But there are a handful of ways.” And when Caleb repeated it aloud, Mollymauk’s ears caught his face’s indigo hue. 

They would spend another hour collectively sharing words. The burning embers in the fireplace were replaced with fresh logs as Caleb continued to add to his journal, writing every story and phrase Mollymauk told him until the tiefling’s throat was hoarse and dry. 

“We can stop there for tonight,” Caleb said, closing his journal. “I don’t want to take up all of your night.” 

“Oh, what a horror that would be,” he teased back. “Would it be alright if I finished with my alphabet? Unless you were going to sleep, I can go.” 

“Nein! Nein, ja, of course you can. My desk is yours to use,” Caleb was quick to interject. “I was just going to read for the rest of the night. You’re not a bother, Mollymauk. I enjoy your company.” 

“And I yours,” Mollymauk said, picking himself up to sit on the chair. He gave Caleb a smile, taking the quill from him, and nudging his braid back behind his shoulder. Caleb smiled back, some color in his face, letting his hand drag to the closed book on the side of the bed. 

While Caleb laid back on his pillow to read, Frumpkin settled on his chest. Mollymauk pulled back the sheets of paper he was working on before and set off to finish the Common alphabet. 

Perhaps an hour passed. The fire cracked the last of the newer logs. Caleb’s eyes were closed and the book rested open next to him, his thumb buried into the page. Mollymauk eyed him silently. His hand drifted to his girdle, to the paper - worn and fading - still sat close to his heart. He took it out, carefully unfolding it as if it were an ancient artifact, a precious treasure. Mr. Caleb’s rushed script gave Mollymauk all he needed to know to keep on living the night he crawled out of Molly’s grave. The affection poured into the scrap paper would lead to countless nights of dreaming, of craving that little fire’s warmth. 

Warmth that lay just several feet away from him. 

Mollymauk shook his head, folding the letter back up to place back. His eyes drifted to Caleb’s druidic journal, as did his hand. They had filled up over a dozen pages together. Full of words and phrases that Mollymauk had illegally given him. What was one more, he thought - heart full of restless courage. 

Shadows were overtaking the room as the fireplace began to ember once more. Mollymauk removed himself from the chair, tucking it in as it was before he came in for lessons. Of habit, he pulled the heavy blanket from the bottom of the bed over Caleb’s frame. His hands paused at the human’s shoulders. 

“You have given me my life, Mr. Caleb,” he whispered in a breath. The winter flowers in his hair bloomed for his first year of breathing. His chest was hard as he leaned down. “And in consequence, you have taken my heart.” Lightly pressing his lips to Caleb’s forehead, Mollymauk then backed away from the bed. “It’s the most precious birthday gift I have.” 

The door quietly clicked shut. 

And Caleb opened his eyes. 

His hand fluttered to his forehead, tickled by the flowers and long eyelashes the lavender tiefling adorned so naturally. Frumpkin, sitting by his face and having watched the entire affair, gave his companion a long purr. Caleb slowly sat up, finally bookmarking his novel, glanced at the open journal on the desk. Carrying his heavy blanket with him, the wizard slid out of bed, looking down at the page with the last bits of emberlight. 

_‘Tha gaol agam ort.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mollymauk is a pining mess. But who wouldn't have a huge crush on the person who spent time to write your dead past self a letter like that??? The one thing you have to remember??? Ugh, my soul. It has been taken. 
> 
> This leaves Nott/Veth for the last personal chapter, and then I get to throw you two mysterious chapters before the end of book II!! 
> 
> Until then, I love you all!!


	7. Cross My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for the chapter with Nott/Veth to go the way it goes; she just happened to be the last of the voted order... And I need the headway for the final two of this book aha.  
> Sorry for the week delay - I meant to upload this last Thursday on my birthday (I'm 23 now!) but things came up and a lot of my time went into supporting the BLM movement and being in a heavy-police environment myself, making sure Black voices were heard to people who don't hear them often. So it was a stressful week, as I'm sure it was for everyone. I did raise a decent amount of money for some organizations over my birthday so that felt good. I also had to start work again which is AWFUL.  
> Thank you guys for your patience; this chapter was a little bit rushed, but it will slow down with the next two. I never know how to write for Nott; Sam plays her all over the place, I feel. But I do love her crazy enthusiasm! I just imagine Nott's screaming even though she's back to being her old self. 
> 
> The next two chapters are more or less everyone-focused, so I don't have to completely sweep some of the Nein under the covers!

Nott now went by Veth - which was fine by all of Mollymauk’s standards, as he had only been in their company for a few weeks and he was happy to call her anything she wanted to be called. He enjoyed her halfling culture when she talked more openly about it, and the change of appearance did not hinder her incredible rogue abilities. Even now as the two of them stood chained to a wall, he was amazed at the fit of curses that emanated from her mouth. 

They had a little mission to accomplish - a small one of eavesdropping if anything - just a tiny thing that ended with everyone separated and behind bars. 

Veth had lifted herself off the ground by her chains, gnawing at the cuffs with her non-goblin teeth. As they clacked against the steel in vain, she flopped back to the ground. “Fuck,” she said. 

“Aye, agreed,” Mollymauk replied, his helmet preventing him from putting his head full back. He was still getting used to the added width of horns. “Is your head okay? I don’t know what sort of smoke they used to knock us out. Could have been poisonous.” 

“Wouldn’t we be dead?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe we are?” 

“I thought the afterlife would have been cooler,” Veth said, kicking the dirt that settled into the lines in the stone. “Or I would at least be dining with some wealthy people.” 

“Is that something promised to you by your faith -?” 

“Oh fuck no, I’m just hungry.” Veth looked down at her emptied pockets - the ones that normally stored her lock-picking supplies. “And there’d be so much stuff to steal.” 

Mollymauk chuckled, shrugging. “Perhaps when we get out you can steal that man’s ridiculously huge gold codpiece.” 

Veth gasped. “That would be amazing.” 

Looking around the cell, they knew the guards took their weapons and supplies - even Mollymauk’s hidden blade was taken away with his bracer. His hair had fallen out of its braid, clinging wet to the damp stone walls where it poked out of the helmet. “I suppose we should be lucky we didn’t use spells during that first attack,” Mollymauk said, pulling at the chains. “I can only imagine they’ve gagged some of the others.” 

“My poor baby boy,” Veth said, starting to gnaw at the metal again. “I’m coming, Caleb! I’ll eat through these like a damn rat if I have to!” 

Mollymauk paused. He looked at the halfling. “Veth,” he said. 

“What?” she replied, mouth full of iron. 

“Why didn’t you tell me I was a fucking idiot?” he said, letting his legs go slack. 

Veth perked her brow up. “Are you a fucking idiot?” 

“Absolutely!” 

“Okay,” she laughed, confused. “You’re a fucking idiot. Why are you an idiot?” 

Mollymauk took a breath, scanning where the floor met the walls. Small puddles were dripping in from little streams coming from outside the cell. “Because I’ve trained months with the druids and forgot I could do this.” With another breath, his form disappeared, and a small, lithe rat dropped to the stone. 

Veth screamed, a mix of confusion and pure joy. “Molly! You idiot! I love you!” She watched as the dark purple rat disappeared into the hole in the wall. “You’re coming back though, right?” 

The chamber was silent save for the soft drops of water. Veth could hear footsteps outside the doorway, first slow, then fast - stumbling back and forth until a sturdy thump hit the door. She stood there, twisting her wrists in her cuffs, waiting. 

The door clicked, and Mollymauk pushed it open with his hand, prison keys jangling softly from his tail. 

“Room service,” he whispered, stepping over the guard who crumpled to the ground. Veth grinned, eyeing the crossbow that hung from his belt. When she was released from the handcuffs, she bolted to the body, her hands making quick work of finding every hidden pocket. Mollymauk pulled the body into the chamber and shut it behind them. “Okay,” he said as they shuffled into an indent of the hallway’s wall, “we need to find the others and get out of here quickly.” 

“And get that codpiece!” Veth added, nocking up an arrowbolt to the bow. “I want it now. And that man was a huge fuckface, so he has it coming.” She smoothed out her dress, propping the crossbow up on her shoulder. “I am ready to shoot our way out of here.” 

“You can go invisible, aye?” 

“I have that ability, yes,” she replied. 

“Excellent,” Mollymauk said, shifting into the dark rat he took on before, sitting happily on Veth’s shoulders. 

They stepped silently along the walls of the prison maze, glancing in occupied bedrooms and empty chambers for their friends. It was hard to discern where people were without being able to cast a message, but they certainly spooked some half-awake guards with a floating rat speeding by. As guard numbers grew around a certain room, Veth and Mollymauk slid around the closest corner. 

“You know, I am a little offended we didn’t get more guards,” Veth whispered to the rat on her shoulder as they peaked around. “I bet we can catch them by surprise twice.” The rat looked at her in the most confused way a rodent could manage as she picked him up and placed him in a long cloth that she pulled from her pocket. “You don’t get dizzy easily, do you?” she asked, lowering the two ends of the cloth to her palm. 

Mollymauk blinked at her. _Oh_ , he thought. The rat shook its head. 

“Good,” Veth said, swinging the cloth in the air, and slingshotting the Wild Shaped rat towards one of the guards. Mollymauk hit the man with a solid slap, quickly rummaging around his neck and face, biting and clawing while the guard shouted in fear, trying to slap him off. Veth twisted around the corner, firing off her crossbow into the guard whose attention was on his friend being harassed by a rodent; she sprinted up to him, tackling him to the ground. 

Mollymauk shifted back into himself, still on top of the guard, his legs wrapped tightly around the man’s neck as he twisted and threw them both backwards. His heels neatly stepped to the stone floor while the guard groaned, struggling to get himself situated. Mollymauk kicked his face. And kicked again while Veth sent punches into the other’s nose. Another guard rounded the corner and ran at them. A sword came down in front of Mollymauk’s face, his helmet’s enchantment sending it recoiling back; the tiefling snapped his tail to the torch on the wall, ripping it from the clasp while he rammed the metal horns on the helm into the guard’s shoulder, pressing the fire into the gap of armor by the hip. 

Veth loaded up another bolt. “Get to the cell, Molly!” she shouted. “I got this!” 

Mollymauk twirled off the guard, dodging the fired bolt as his back slammed into the door. Keying the lock open, he swung the heavy door open. Pinned more to the wall than they were before, eyes covered, and an aforementioned dirty gag shoved into his mouth - was Caleb. He had picked his head up, listening in as Mollymauk stepped into the doorway. 

_“Die, fuckers, die!”_ Veth screamed behind them as she ran across the entryway, firing another bolt at fleeing guards. 

Caleb tugged at his chains, cries from his mouth were muffled. Mollymauk quickly stepped forward, hands fumbling over Caleb’s head, untying the blindfold and throwing it to the ground. The wizard tiredly blinked up at him through bruised eyes, tracking the tiefling’s movements while he pulled the gag out. 

“Mollyma-” 

“Hang on there, Mister Caleb,” Mollymauk said, shuffling the keys around to the cuffs. “We have you.” He held onto the human while he collected himself. 

“I’m low on spells,” Caleb said, rubbing his wrists. “And they killed Frumpkin,” he added angrily, stumbling to the door. Mollymauk followed, guiding his hands along Caleb’s hips. Veth was at the end of the hall, overkilling the last of the guards in the area. Her eyes lit up when she looked their way. 

“Caleb!” she cried, running over. She jumped and wrapped him in a hug. Mollymauk stepped away to collect the swords from the guards dead by the door. Veth pinched Caleb’s cheeks. “There’s a room with more of our supplies down the hall some more, your things may be in there,” she said, “I found a second crossbow.” 

“Veth, did you see any halls that could lead to the others?” Mollymauk asked, placing one of the swords in Caleb’s hands. “Mister Caleb is low on arcana.” 

The halfling brought them down the hallway and up into a higher level of passages; windows slowly were making an appearance. Mollymauk didn’t realize they were underground. His chest ached. 

A commotion barreled its way down the stone walls from a large open room up ahead. The trio watched a heavily armed guard hit the wall beyond the doorway - thrown from someone out of view. Veth crept forward to the arch. Her braids slapped her cheeks as she quickly turned back to Caleb and the tiefling, a wild grin on her face. 

“There are barrels in here,” she said, loading a crossbow with a bolt Mollymauk hadn’t seen before. “And someone who speaks my language.” A stray tear flickered down her cheek. She twirled into the room as her two companions watched. “ _Jester!_ ” she cried, raising her crossbow. “ _FLUFFERNUTTER!_ ” 

A chorus of shouting went off, Fjord rolling into view. “Jester, don’t-” he shouted, throwing another Eldritch blast at a group of guards. Mollymauk and Caleb rushed into the room as the two girls set up the perfect explosion, blocking the entrance where guards were running in from. Fjord winced. “I hope that wasn’t the way out,” he said, looking up towards the boys as they approached him. “Are you guys okay?” 

“Wunderbar,” Caleb replied, biting his tongue. 

Mollymauk shrugged. “Could be worse, I suppose.” 

While the guards worked to pick themselves up, Jester and Veth ran back over to the group - the former embracing them in a tight hug. 

“Oh, thank the Traveler you three are alive!” she said, giving all of them kisses. “We’re all low on juice, so the worry was really starting to get to us, you know?” 

Veth pointed to the open door on the other side of the chamber. “Then let’s get going! Fjord, get your green ass up and out, come on!” 

“So rude,” Fjord huffed, picking her up as they ran out and up more stairs. 

Yasha was easy to find; staring down the soldiers hard enough through the small slit in the door that they had already backed away from it. She told the group she heard that Beau and Caduceus may have gotten loose up ahead, closer to the exit. The man with the codpiece Veth was determined to have had sent up his heavy tanks to deal with them, and now, the Mighty Nein, met with each other on either side of the largest grouping of guards yet. 

Beau, standing on the other side, piling her hair up out of her face, was absolutely thriving. Smirk running cheek to cheek, she ran forward for another kick to a man’s face, rebounding off of him and to another. “Ay! You guys made it!” she called over the fighting. “Thought I heard some shit blowing up!” 

Caduceus looked a little worse for wear. He expended most of his spells on the towering soldiers; who stood even above his height. 

Veth’s eyes roamed the room as she hid amongst the pillars and boxes. While the others went in to fight their way out, Mollymauk led Caleb to her. 

“Veth, Caleb is going to pass out, could you keep him hidden?” he explained, ignoring the human's look of offense. 

Veth put her hand on the wizard’s shoulder, “He’s always safe with me. If I see gold-dick man, I’ll let him have everything I got.” 

“Wha-?” Caleb murmured between them. 

Turning back to the fight, Mollymauk dove in. Swords spinning as the team pounded into the armored enemy despite their disadvantage. His heart beated heavy in his ears. Weaving in and out between the soldiers, he ducked under one man’s wide swing, and with a small cut to his own thumb, Mollymauk’s sword was licked in ice - digging through the armor of another. 

The tanks were huge, Mollymauk thought. He had hardly gotten used to Caduceus' height, but the added girth to these men was as if they were all just secret bears. The tiefling breathed heavy through gritted fangs. Taking their situation, the Nein was faring well - they were still alive! 

He parried another swing down from the soldier’s sword with both of his. _Snap_.Something was off. And again. _Snap. It didn't feel right/_ And again. _Snap_. His back hitting the wall, Mollymauk felt a tingle of panic crawl up his neck. His eyes flickered down; silver thread floated with his movements. He rolled to the side as the soldier thrusted forward. Snap! More of the silver thread pulled free. Mollymauk clutched his chest. There was no blood. The tingling in his neck swam down his shoulders to his arms. 

“Enough play,” the soldier spoke, his voice low and gruff, not unfamiliar to Mollymauk’s ears. His next swing dislodged the scimitars from the tiefling’s hands, the ice-coated blades fading to snow. 

“Do I,” Mollymauk said, pulling himself up, his mind racing, skin like static. “Do I know you?” The room felt like it was shrinking. Had it gotten darker? The soldier’s face morphed back and forth with every blink; Mollymauk shook his head. “S-stop.” 

The man lifted his sword - or was it a glaive? 

“Show me some respect,” he spat. 

_Snap!_

__Snap!_ _

___Snap!_ _ _

___The edge of the blade had practically missed the tiefling by a hair. It would have hurt less than the utter burn that erupted from inside of him. Mollymauk dropped to his knees, hand over his mouth as the other tried to keep his heart in place - his head in pure anguish. There was no blood - there was blood everywhere - can’t stop sweating - it’s so cold - my friends are still here - where is everyone - Lorenzo is above you - this man is above you - look up - look up - _DODGE!_ _ _ _

__Mollymauk threw himself to the side as a heavy bolt launched itself into the gap of the soldier’s helmet. A beat had passed before it clicked, and the head of the man was no more - a body dropping besides the tiefling where he once was. Mollymauk clawed his own helmet off, gasping and gagging as he crawled away, his chest feeling as if all of his organs were falling out._ _

__“Did you see that shot!” Veth slid into view, her arms raised. “I did it! I am amazing! Molly, did you see? I got this just a minute ago and now -! Molly?” The halfling lowered the codpiece she held up in her spare hand. “Hey?” Running over, she dropped in front of him. “Are you hurt?”_ _

__She leaned back as the tiefling lifted his head to her, red eyes pouring tears. His chest convulsed, but no air escaped his lips._ _

__“I can’t breathe,” he choked. “Veth, I can’t-” Falling to his back, he clung to his scar, as if to hold it together. Veth stared at the silver thread - void of any of the magic it once had that held it to heal - the string that now disintegrated in her hands._ _

__Veth clung to Mollymauk’s hand, terror in her voice, “ _CADUCEUS, JESTER!_ We need help! Oh, fuck, hurry up!” _ _

__“Ku’ra,” Mollymauk whispered._ _

__“What?” Veth said, turning her attention back._ _

__“Need - Ku’ra,” he repeated, his vision filling with shadows. Snow drifted down from the ceiling. His head lolled - his friends running to him in the distance. The cat and the peacock sat several feet in front of him, simply watching. He watched them back._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)   
> :) :)   
> :) :) :)  
> It's okay, I like hurt/comfort.   
> Though writing PTSD hits home, at least I can shape how this story plays out. 
> 
> If you wanted to know, Veth chopped that gold-dick man's peen right off. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I love reading your comments - some don't make it to my email, so logging on to see new ones really make my nights! Happy Thursday!


	8. Druids of Old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting into plot set up for book iii now. I wrote the start of this short one at work because we haven't opened yet and just sit around and do nothing for nine hours or until we get sent home. I then proceeded to avoid some awful family members upon returning home and wrote the rest of it instead! I love writing some hurt/comfort while the family talks politics! 
> 
> I came up with the plot twist you're about to read whilst I was showering a couple weeks back and gasped so dramatically I needed to get out to write it down before I forgot. Showers, man.

_Cold._

That was his first thought. 

Followed quickly by a firm tight grip and warmth flooding through his body. Not quite burning or painful - something soft, pleasant - a heartbeat; Mollymauk pressed himself into it, finagling his arms in front of him to get as much of his skin against the pleasant beating. His nose tucked neatly between folds of cotton fabric. 

“Are we almost there?” 

“Just another hour - Molly never explained where the grove was exactly, just that it was near where we had buried him. If we’re lucky, the druids will find us first.” 

_The spirits are loud today,_ Mollymauk thought, brows narrowing through a sharp twist in his chest - the pain making him curl his legs up. 

“Fuck! Isn’t there some healing spell that can help him? Caduceus, anything?” 

“I can’t find anything physically wrong. The scar is closed.” 

The heartbeat Mollymauk warmed himself with, vibrated softly, “It could be something with the trauma,” the words said. “Sometimes you can’t control the things you see.” 

A long hush swept over the darkness. The whole world rocked silently; the quiet roll of wheels on dirt or a soft huff of an animal penetrated his dreams. 

“He’s still breathing, right, Caleb?” 

“Ja,” the heartbeat thrummed again. “He’s stopped shivering, but perhaps another fur?” 

“Yeah, of course. Here.” 

Aye, Mollymauk was certainly having another odd dream. But the numbness was replaced with tingling, little sparks that crawled down his spine. His tail coiled securely around himself and the heartbeat - he wouldn’t let the cold seep in and ruin it. 

If ever he opened his eyes to the dimly lit world, Lorenzo would be there, marching next to the wagon, the terrible face boring down on him until the beast practically melded through the wood to close in. Mollymauk pressed his face deeper into the creases of the tunic, hands like a shield folding over his head. He’d inhale sharply through his nose, perhaps twice or three times before his lungs felt any oxygen fill them. 

“Mollymauk, you have to exhale,” the heartbeat whispered. “I promise you are going to get through this.” 

The tiefling lifted his face, slowly, heavily, from the layers of clothing he had promptly dug himself into, up to the tired, but warm expression of one red-headed human. He sucked in another breath, “Em…” he gasped, eyes watering. “Emp…” 

“Nein, liebe, nein,” Caleb replied, his voice light. “Just breathe with me, ja? Can you breathe with me?” 

They exhaled together. Mollymauk hyper-fixated on the wizard, the oni behind them faded from his vision while they counted well into the night. 

He was jostled awake again suddenly, the wagon coming to a stop. He felt his friends stand up around him. There were whispers in the trees - the leaves fluttering in the early spring breeze. The discussion wasn’t loud enough for Mollymauk to hear any of it through his own breathing, but the movement of his precious warm heartbeat snapped his eyes open, hands grabbing. 

“Don’t leave,” he choked. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Mollymauk. We’ve run into some people you may know,” Caleb said, helping him sit upright. The tiefling pressed his hands over his chest, huffing and leaning. 

“People?” 

“Druids. Fjord is talking to them with Caduceus. Do you trust me, Mollymauk?” 

Mollymauk nodded, “Unequivocally.” 

Caleb smiled, “Think you could spell that?” 

The tiefling shook his head. 

“Okay, maybe later. Yasha is going to pick you up now, alright?” 

As he spoke, the aasimar knelt down, carefully scooping Mollymauk up. She stepped weightlessly off the wagon. “Hey there, Mollymauk,” she said, cradling him. 

“My charm,” he breathed through a forced smile. She smiled sadly back, and walked them to the growing group. The moon druids had appeared around the treeline, some watching from afar while others approached to listen to their story. A few eyed the tiefling - recognition on their faces. 

“Listen, we don’t know how to help him,” Fjord said. “He just kept asking for a Ku’ra before he passed out the first time.” 

“You came at an auspicious time,” a druid man replied. “We are not normally gathered like such during an approaching new moon, however we have been hosting an important guest. Ku’ra is with her now. We can take you to them.” 

Mollymauk gripped as tightly as he could to Yasha’s fur shawl. Caleb stood on their side, by his face, watching and waiting for the group to get moving again. Mollymauk studied how his brow narrowed impatiently. He inched his eyes back to the barbarian; even her face was set firmly, worry planted in her frown. He then looked past her - to the trees. 

A raven sat stationary on a branch. Not a twitch of the wings as the night breeze rattled the trees once more. 

The tiefling’s heart raced as he looked away. Yasha felt his nails dig into her arm and glanced down as they finally began walking. His gasping had stopped and was replaced by stricken fear, tears just silently running down his face. 

“Mollymauk,” she said, giving her friend a careful shake as she picked up her pace; Caleb looked at them and quicked his stride as well - his hand combing over to the tiefling’s shoulder. 

“Breathe, Mollymauk,” he said, a mix of anger and apprehension bleeding into his voice. 

The breath came out in a sob. “I’m going to die,” Mollymauk gasped. “I’m going to die - I’m gonna -” His whimpers were muffled as Yasha pressed him into her. 

“You are not going to die, Mollymauk,” she said, setting her jaw forward in an attempt to keep her composure. He convulsed in her hold, causing her to have to swap the carry from a cradle to how she once did when the tiefling stayed the night in her room and was plagued by his nightmares. Caleb moved to behind her, looking up at Mollymauk as his mouth pressed against Yasha’s shoulder. The tiefling’s red eyes were full of tears as he blinked slowly down at the human. 

“I know you’re hurting,” he said. “I know you’re scared. But we are with you this time; we’re not going to leave you alone... Can you hear me?” 

Mollymauk blinked again, the face of the red-headed man blurred in and out. He wondered if the human knew that there were two small spirits bustling after them, right on his heel. He slid his arm over the aasimar’s shoulders and reached out to them. Maybe they knew where he was. 

Caleb watched as Mollymauk’s arm went limp. 

He was in his room, or rather, his old room. Or at least what was once the space where his old bed was in the familiar and warm, vine covered grove. Mollymauk blinked heavily, eyes tracing the roots and marking along the ceiling. There was movement around him - they moved like wisps, he couldn’t get them to focus. Incense floated around his face, it smelt sweet, and made him nod in and out. 

“Hey there, Mo,” a warm voice called out to him. Her dark eyes wrinkled in a smile. “I’m very happy to see you again. Although I would have preferred different circumstances.” 

“Ku’ra,” Mollymauk mouthed, a lopsided grin flashing onto his face. He followed her with his eyes as she spoke to people he couldn’t see. Her hair had grown longer, he analyzed, her once short hair had curled into a beautiful mane. She had decorated it with the first flowers of the season. “Ku’ra.” 

“Hush, hush, sweetheart, we’re going to take away the pain, okay? Just like last time,” she said to him. She turned away briefly. “Hold him tight, he’s going to snap back to reality once I start.” 

The silver thread made its way to rest on his belly as she thread a needle and prayed over it, calling on the Moonweaver for both their sakes. The needle then went into the top of his old scar. 

Mollymauk slapped his tail down, “Fuck!” he cried, the pain curdling back up his throat. Jester and Beau clasped at his arms as he tried to pull them towards himself; Fjord and Yasha at his feet. Distant memories flooded his head, unwanted and repetitive. 

Veth tucked her hands under his hair. “Please don’t hit your head like that.” 

“You got this, Molly,” Beau said. “We’re here for you.” 

“You can do it, Molly!” Jester cheered, watching Ku’ra sew the stitches closer together than they were once before. 

Mollymauk bit down on his lip. “It’s worse than the first time,” he cried. Somehow he felt guilty - guilty that his friends were in this position because of him, guilty for causing them pain of reliving what had happened those years ago. 

“These won’t break on you, Mr. Mollymauk,” Caduceus said calmly. He sat on the opposite side of Ku’ra, wiping the crystalling blood away as she worked diligently. “You won’t have to experience this again.” 

The ivy hanging over the entryway was pushed aside as another druid entered, one Mollymauk didn’t recognize, but Ku’ra glanced up to give a respectful nod. The druid looked about the room at the Mighty Nein hovering around the cursing and crying tiefling. She stepped around them, her skirts and mantle floating gently above the floor, and knelt by Mollymauk’s head. 

“I have a potion you should take,” she said, her voice was light and passive, but not unlike a mothers. “I made it myself so it should at least be tasteless.” She mused at her own joke. “It will blur those painful memories that do not belong to you; I understand those hurt more than the stitching.” 

Mollymauk eyed the cup in her hands. “Not seeing that thing hovering over me would be nice,” he agreed, gasping through bloodied teeth. The druid gently wiped the blood from his lips and the cuts disappeared instantly, as if he never bit through them in the first place. 

“Help him tilt his head up, please,” she said to Veth - who lifted the tiefling’s head to her lap. “There we are…” She brought the cup to his mouth. 

It was quite tasteless, as she said it would be. Though she never mentioned the thickness of the liquid, and his throat was adverse to drinking any more of it. 

Caleb sat opposite of her. “You can finish it, Mollymauk.” 

The visions of the past sizzled even as he drank it down. Lorenzo stood, unable to move as the mnemonic image of him faded into flurries of snow, rushed out of the grove as if a strong wind blew it away. 

He took his first normal breath as the druid woman raised the cup away. She tucked a strand of her red hair behind her pointed ear. “Better?” she asked. 

“How do you know it won’t come back?” Mollymauk asked, still wincing as Ku’ra pulled at the thread. 

“I can show you,” the woman replied simply. She took a tiny feather from a pouch on her belt and covered it with her palm atop his forehead. They closed their eyes. 

A beat passed. 

Mollymauk hummed. “That’s a lot of restful sleep,” he said, opening an eye. 

“Sounds very nice, doesn’t it?” 

“Aye,” he said. “And that’s actually all going to happen?” 

“That’s how the spell works,” she said, laughing lightly. 

Caleb looked between them. “Foresight?” he asked. “Everything is okay?” 

The druid nodded. “Yes. You all are going to have a safe and restful night tonight. We will happily prepare you something to eat beforehand. And I am sure, Miss Ku’ra will allow you all to bathe in her river.” 

Ku’ra tied the last bits of the enchanted silver thread off and leaned over to tightly embrace the tiefling. “As long as this one is here, you guys can use the river all you’d like,” she said, kissing Mollymauk on both cheeks. Beau and Jester let his arms go so he could hug her back. 

“We’ll try not to drink all your wine,” Mollymauk replied. 

The Nein shuffled to standing as the tall druid woman stood up to grab her staff from the wall. She beamed at them kindly, nodding her head slightly so that her headdress did not fall. “I think, perhaps, we should all start preparing for bed.” 

Ku’ra wiped her eyes and got to her feet. “Thank you again, ma’am, for helping this unexpected dilemma.” 

“Ooh, a ma’am,” Beau repeated. 

Veth looked her up and down. “Are you royalty? Druidic royalty?” 

The woman covered a chuckle with the back of her hand. “I wouldn’t call it that among moon druids. Please forgive my rudeness. I am the Voice of the Tempest - you can call me Keyleth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Druids maaaan! AmIRight???   
> I couldn't tease one VM member without completely tossing another one in instead! When I decided to make Molly3 into a moon druid, it was solely for the Moonweaver's sake. Then I remembered Kiki was also a moon druid - and she's all about traveling so why wouldn't she visit this circle as well???? She has such great timing, what a woman.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I love reading your comments, they truly get me by these days.


	9. The Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, I definitely wrote this in one long haze of being in a huge Mollymauk mood. I went in blindly with a loose idea of what I needed to set up and this is what my hands produced. It's the last chapter of this book! Ahh!  
> I'll be taking a few weeks to sort out the third and final book to this trilogy that is Molly3, and updates should come not long after.  
> I was given a photo back from my short Molly3 shoot at Katsucon and it makes my heart so full. I'll be posting them on my IG (@nerenight) sometime this week; maybe tomorrow haha.  
> I'm so happy Critical Role is coming back this Thursday! It's been so long. Until then, enjoy my word vomit!

Mollymauk was warm between the pile of his friends. Reminiscent of the first night they spent together huddled in Caleb’s magical hut, he felt wholly secure, with the addition of his druid friend - who had brought her bed over to sleep closer by. Like the air Ashari, Keyleth, had promised, his sleep was soundless for the first time in months. So quiet, that after a few hours, he opened his eyes and couldn’t discern the difference. 

Yasha’s hair had pillowed around his face, tickling his nose as he lifted his head carefully. Jester’s hold on his arm tightened as she shifted in her sleep, her knees brought up and out of the blanket she was using; glancing between them, Mollymauk noticed Veth had crawled in - maximizing on the heat both tieflings provided - and hugged Jester’s waist. Slowly lifting himself up, he hardly noticed Beau who had her head where Jester’s feet once were - and a fisted hand coiled around his tail. Mollymauk breathed a passive sigh and gave his tail a small flick. Her fingers laxed from locking through the piercings along the ridges, enough so the tiefling could lift the appendage up out of her grasp and hold it there. 

It was like a puzzle - trying to maneuver from out of the Nein’s pile. As he shifted his weight to his right, Caleb’s hand twitched lightly on his own - a few fingers resting gently atop the tiefling’s knuckles. Mollymauk gently slid his hand out with a smile and focused on Fjord’s overlapping foot over his own blankets. He gritted his teeth as he slid his leg out, barefooted and cold as soon as they left the wool layers. Caduceus slept at his feet by the exit - his long body making it quite the trek to find a way around him without just leaping over. 

Mollymauk looked back from the hanging ivy towards his friends; the circle around where he was, and smiled tenderly. He’d be back to tuck himself back in between them. 

Outside was darker than usual, the new moon left room in the sky only for the plenty of stars that shimmered as the tiefling walked over to the stream. The water babbled and bubbled over the stones that stuck out from under it. One could see the stars in the reflection, a river of space moving downstream. Mollymauk knelt by it, cupping some of the stars in his hands to splash on his face. The water dripped down his bare chest, down the crevice of the newly stitched scar - one that wouldn’t open again, they promised. Touching it no longer hurt the way it once did; sore, for certain, but no more than any of his other cuts and injuries all over this body that were now healed. He brought his hands over his hair, dragging his wet fingers up and around his growing horns - which were higher than his head now - growing backwards as the helmet he wore daily allowed them. His fingers itched around the cracks in his skull that Caduceus would look over often, and pulled a stray daffodil that bloomed overnight. He huffed, shaking his head with a grin. He hadn’t just looked at the body he inherited in a while; lean muscle lay across his form unlike the way it was when he was decaying in the ground, his abdomen was fair and firm, and the piercings that Jester gave him made his nipples perk up very easy. 

He laughed to himself, sitting back on his feet, letting the water frost and dry against his skin before rubbing it off. 

The peacock appeared next to him, plopping its feathered bottom close to Mollymauk’s thigh. The tiefling gave it a soft tickle along its soft back, prompting the spirit to tilt its neck back to stare up at him. 

“Did I scare you, Molly?” he asked, lightly booping the bird on its beak. “It certainly scared me.” The peacock rested its head atop his leg. “We’re so close to where we all were once…” 

The black cat whisked by, bumping its body roughly against Mollymauk’s side. 

“Nice of you to join us, Lucien,” the tiefling said, catching the spirit by the tip of its tail before it walked along the stream. “I’ve seen you and your snooping into Mr. Caleb’s things lately. Why can’t you just behave?” 

The cat flicked its butt upward before promptly sitting down. If the peacock could roll its eyes, it would have. 

“I sort of appreciate you two, as distracting as you are at times,” Mollymauk said quietly, watching the small fish fly down the stream. “I think, as weird as it is, you ground me. Being with me since the beginning certainly helps; even though it just looks like I’m talking aloud to myself.” He absentmindedly started to rebraid his hair. “I wonder if it will be like this if I were to die.” 

The peacock squawked, its plumage fluffing with annoyance. The cat’s ears snapped back, the tail dragging undisturbed over the rocks. 

“Neither of you had that dream before, have you? The one with that man - and the ravens?” Mollymauk asked, then quickly altered, “Well, I guess you wouldn’t have, Lucien - you were the original.” 

Cat puffed up - peacock unhappy. 

“You two really hate each other.” 

The three sat in silence, listening to the water, cicadas, and watching the fireflies dance between the trees around them. The grove smelt exactly like it did the year prior when Mollymauk would sit out by the stream. Everything was growing back for the spring. Fjord and Caduceus would certainly be looking forward to its peak when they could celebrate the Wildmother, he thought. 

A long tailed meteor drifted into view of the water’s reflection, swimming swiftly down the stream’s path. Mollymauk stood up - his spirit companions suddenly gone - and glanced up towards the sky. The stars remained where they were, unchanged. He looked back to the running water, and the array of colors that floated away out of the grove. He covered the eye that Caduceus said was tapped into the ethereal plane and looked at it again. What the water reflected was not mirrored in the sky. Mollymauk held his breath as the colorful light disappeared around the bend - then he ran to follow it. 

The grass was wet beneath his bare feet while he caught up with the magical lights that jumped and spun within the streams whirlpools and drops. The colors ribboned this way and that; Mollymauk dodged between trees as he followed them to an open lake - the lights quickly entering the wide body of water and dispersing into the normal black star studded sky. The tiefling sniffed, rubbing his cold face as he caught up with his breath. The grass grew taller here, soaking his legs up to his knees as he threaded through them to the water’s edge. 

The sounds of the night hushed as a warm breeze rattled the tree bark with enough force to nudge Mollymauk to step forward into the lake. It was warmer than the air outside - as if it sat basking in the late summer sun all day despite winter just ending. As he stepped, the small ribbons of color blossomed under his feet, lighting up the water in soft bursts of rainbow. 

Quickly, he looked around the lake - between the trees and across the way - looking for anyone who may be close by casting spells to fool him into some trap. He didn’t move for a lingering moment, his breath clouding out small and fast. His eyes latched on to a soft white light in the center of the lake - somehow unable to look away as he walked deeper into the water, his toes grazing the soil and clay beneath, the ribbons of light bouncing with his steps. Swimming through the sky’s reflection, he stopped when he entered the circular white light, his feet unable to find grounding. 

It was the moon, he realized, looking at the craters and divots reflected onto the water that one would see when watching the full moon sit in the sky. Mollymauk’s lips dipped up and down the water’s surface as he watched the colorful ribbons circle about him, as if this were a dream and he had never walked away from his friends in the grove. 

His brows pulled in. It was a new moon, he thought, his eyes tilting up to look at the night sky. There was no moon above him, as there wasn’t any for the whole night. The light he swam in went dark, like snuffing a candle, leaving the tiefling in the middle of the water in utter darkness. 

“Hello?” he breathed, turning in circles, panic rising in his throat. “Molly? Lucien...?” 

A light warm puff of air whispered in his ear from behind, “Oh, my lost child.” 

Mollymauk frantically followed his shoulder to look the other way, and in an instant, he was sitting in an open meadow - surrounded by tall grass and flowers that were much better suited for autumn - the sky was full of the dancing, colorful lights. The tiefling felt the dry soil beneath his soaking bottom; he reached out and touched everything around him trying to make sense of what happened within a blink of an eye. 

He stood up, the earth beneath him now damp, and looked around. The meadow seemed to go on forever, shadows overtaking the curvature of the horizon. “Who’s there?” he said, his voice louder. 

“Well,” that same voice replied behind him. “They always say the third time's the charm; care to take another guess?” 

Mollymauk turned slowly, to a young elvish girl who stood brilliantly before him. She was shorter than he was, with wavy white hair that was half plated and pinned up behind a crown of stars and ribbons. Her loose clothing was like the sky, ever changing in colors and patterns, and appeared to shift into shadows along the edges of her form. An illuminated empty circle etched along her forehead shimmered in the night. Her mouth broke into a blinding white smile amidst her midnight blue lips. 

“Sehanine,” he breathed, and fell back to his knees. His mind raced; he certainly was being sarcastic to Molly when he expressed becoming a spirit when he died, he wasn’t anticipating dying - did he drown? Freeze to death? 

“Oh, my sweet, I am flattered, but you need not grovel. Come, come, stand so that I may look at you,” she said - her voice kind and lighthearted. She offered her hand, which Mollymauk took cautiously. “Please, could you turn for me?” 

The tiefling, struck dumb, slowly turned himself in a circle, much to the goddess’ delight. 

“Perfect, yes, I thought you would do nicely,” she said, floating around him nonetheless. “I was a little worried about injuries your other self attained during his final moments, but you mortals are so crafty with your magic, I am very impressed.” The Moonweaver tapped his scar delicately. “Your soul so precisely weaved together - poetry,” she hummed. “Perfect.” 

Mollymauk, given he was half naked, felt more exposed from the inside-out as the deity finally stopped circling him. 

“You look confused,” she said. 

“I feel confused,” he replied, “Ma’am - uh, Miss-” 

Sehanine laughed - a delightful thing, the borealis in the sky twisted and brightened in color. “The changes in your personalities are so fascinating - I love it. I’ve been eyeing you for a while, my little lavender bloodhunter. Three lifetimes, I’ve watched; picking at your mind and your heart…” She gave his chest another light tap. “And your soul.” 

“Why?” Mollymauk asked. His head felt light just talking to her. 

“Well, I had to pick the right mortal to be my champion of course,” Sehanine said, sitting in the air in a chair of shadows. 

“Ch-champion?” Mollymauk repeated. “I’m no paladin; I’m not like Fjord and his oaths to the Wildmother -” 

“Melora is boringly classic - like so many of the others. I am inclined to lean towards the unexpected. Warlocks, paladins, rogues, who would expect a god to choose a bloodhunter with skills for druidic moon magic? I am so clever,” she said, beaming. “Of course, like any champion, I would grant you some gifts. Wouldn’t be fair otherwise; I quite would like to win this one. The Raven Queen’s champion is honestly such a sore spot.” 

“The Raven Queen’s,” Mollymauk thought aloud, “champion? I’ve met him before, I think. Aye, in my dreams.” 

The Moonweaver’s eyes shifted towards him, brows turned down. “The half-elf was-?” She brought her hand to her mouth and bit at her thumb. “That feathered witch.” 

“He said I was cheating? And mentioned some sort of game? I didn’t know what he meant -” 

“His deity likely called on him to snuff you out because I brought you back out of her domain. It’s something I’m allowed to do - she can’t just try to steal you back.” Sehanine stepped off of her dark seat. “Yes, I suppose I will have to give you all of my best work. If that little twink comes back-” 

Mollymauk snorted; and clapped his hands over his mouth. 

The little goddess pouted. “What?” 

“Nothing, ma’am.” 

“Do not lie to your god,” she said, though laughter curled into her threat. 

“It’s really nothing; I just wouldn’t have labelled him a ‘twink,’ ma’am. Perhaps a twunk if we’re being honest.” 

She paused for a moment, then erupted into the sky twisting laughter again. “Oh, my child, you are a sweet agent of chaos.” She floated up to his height, pressing the palms of her hands to his cheeks. “Would you be my champion, my sweet Mollymauk? Fight for me and my desires, create new memories in this life to forge ahead - untethered, to reach your destiny? I will protect you in the shadows from the fanatical light of the good, and from the utter darkness of our realms evil. Let us win this little game your counterpart spoke so solemnly of.” 

“Will my friends be in danger because of me?” Mollymauk asked, his hands drifting upwards over hers. 

“Oh dear, I am of good nature - I would not jeopardize your little mortal relationships like that. In fact, I imagine you will become even more powerful if you agree. I was there in the beginning, you know. From when you crawled out of that hole, I kept my light high to guide you; Sent your past to encourage you onward.” Sehanine took one hand and gestured to the ground where the two spirits formed. “Perhaps a gift to entice you.” 

With a snap, the cat and peacock shifted, their forms taller - until Mollymauk was looking at himself, twice over, but different. The Lucien he had seen only in his drugged stupor stood before him, his hair cut short and slicked back around long, curving and undecorated horns; his clothes were dark, uniformly layered like he was made for shadows. Next to him, was the tiefling that had adorned the torn tapestry-like coat that marked his grave; Molly was full of color, the exact opposite of the life before him, his hair was longer and curled about his face, the ornaments on his horns showcasing the sun and moon. The two looked at themselves, at each other, and towards the present Mollymauk - who had fallen hard onto his ass in shock. 

The Moonweaver smiled at her gifts. “I give you Lucien Nonagon, the mind, who will grant you solace in the shadows - unseen, unsuspecting misdirection; and your namesake Mollymauk Tealeaf, the heart, who will be the part of you that bends light to your will, making people see whatever you wish them to see, an illusion as bliss as this.” The two tieflings dispersed into small little stars that Sehanine cupped in her hands. “They will fit perfectly on either side of your soul. My perfect three phases.” 

As she held them out to him, Mollymauk felt the swell of emotion and memories his past lives felt at once. Tears poured down his cheeks in waves as he tried to form a reply to the goddess who stood patiently watching. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this. I’m so confused,” he whispered. “How do you know I’m the right one to do your will -” 

Sehanine sat back on her temporary throne. “You’re the right one because I chose you to be. The gods are just like that - we enjoy the fun you bring to us in your short lives. It’s quite endearing. Now, I have gifted you both your past as well as powers that mages would only dream of… but you haven’t agreed to _my_ terms, dearest. Will you be a champion of the Moonweaver - goddess of the moonlight, patron of illusion, misdirection, and secret love?” She held out her hand once more for Mollymauk to get to his feet. 

He did; and with a hesitant nod of his head, the smile of Sehanine grew. She pressed her forehead against his as her glimmering markings glowed. 

“My first champion, you make an immortal life worthwhile,” she said. “Hold your breath now, my child.” 

Mollymauk felt the heat on her forehead grow hotter before - suddenly - it was gone, and he opened his eyes to the dark lake, lazily standing above it for a timely paused moment before he splashed back down into the freezing water. The meadow was gone, as if it was never there to begin with. Mollymauk broke the surface with a gasp, arms flailing to find a grip on reality. He swam back to shore, his feet dragging through the silt until his knees collapsed in the wet grass. Pressing his face into his hands, the tiefling cried longer. 

_“Meow!”_

Mollymauk’s head snapped up in surprise. “Frumpkin,” he exclaimed. The orange cat sat next to him, bright blue eyes gazing down on him, ears perked up. “How long have you been out here in the cold?” The tiefling got to his knees, gathering the cat up in his arms. “Oh, you are very warm. Ah, let’s get you back to the grove.” 

He collected himself, slowly blinking away the last of his tired and overwhelmed tears. As Frumpkin began to purr under his chin, he laughed. 

“I thought you were a different cat at first,” Mollymauk admitted, stepping back along the stream. 

He walked with the cat to the grove, occasionally pressing his nose into the thick fur of the familiar to keep it from chipping off. As he ducked into the protected wood, he almost tripped over Ku’ra, who sat at the edge of her home patiently. 

“You’re awake?” Mollymauk said, surprised. He watched the human druid get up and wrap a woven wool blanket around his shoulders. 

“You think I’m not used to you sneaking out when you should be getting some bed rest, Mo?” she replied, tucking the blanket around Frumpkin - who curled tighter into the tiefling’s arms. “Where did you go? You have frost in your hair!” 

“I fell in the lake; I was dropped; she dropped me; I mean, I was swimming and then she made everything elsewhere while she spoke to me, but then I was back here and I fell,” Mollymauk recounted, nodding to himself. 

Ku’ra tucked her fingers into the wrap she kept her hair in - brown eyes widening and narrowing. “‘She,’” she said. 

“Aye.” 

“Do I know who ‘she’ is, Mo?” 

The tiefling nibbled on his lip as he glanced at the moonless sky. “I would bet your entire storage of wine that you do.” 

Ku’ra studied him while she thought; taking in the barefooted, soaked tiefling whose hair was just starting to curl off his face while he dried. She stepped forward and brushed a few of his bangs off of his forehead, her inhaling was sharp. “By the gods, Mo, what did you do?” 

“What? What is it?” he asked, touching his forehead between his horns, over the slight rise in his skin. Shuffling over to the water’s edge he knelt down to stare at his reflection; Frumpkin turned to look down as well. Slightly lighter than his own lavender skin, branded a small triple moon mark, that disappeared when covered by the shadow of his hand or hair. “Oh, fuck,” he said, gently touching it. “She made it match the damn nipple piercings!” 

“Mo, what did you _do_ ?” Ku’ra repeated, trying to keep her voice down. 

Flabbergasted, the tiefling stood back up, quietly keeping himself deeply embedded into the thick blanket. “I think I just agreed to be a piece on the gods playing board,” he said, leaning against the grove’s largest tree. “She wanted a champion of sorts -” He stopped abruptly. “It feels weird talking about it - I get the feeling she’s listening in now.” 

Ku’ra pressed her hands together as they tapped at her lips. “I mean, I knew the Moonweaver had special plans for you when she led me to find you, but,” she said, huffing a breath. “Do you feel different?” 

“I am definitely tired,” Mollymauk replied with a laugh. “Overwhelmed, but that isn’t new. Maybe after some sleep I’ll feel less cocky about potentially taking on the Raven Queen’s champion who’s been trying to kill me for weeks? I left a nice hole in-between my friends that I wouldn’t mind climbing back into for once.” 

Reluctantly, she walked him back to the ivy-draped doorway, making sure he was able to lie down comfortably. His friends, molding back to his shape, subconsciously grabbed at his arms once more. The cat stepped off of the tiefling’s chest and sat next to his red-headed companion - who gave the familiar a small scratch on the head before silently placing his hand back on Mollymauk’s fingers. Ku’ra glanced back to the sky, to the empty spot where the moon hid in darkness. 

“I can take a hint,” she said under her breath to the gods. “But if this little _game_ of yours gets him hurt, so help you all. I will _tear_ it out from underneath.” The druid entered her home, and closed the stone walls for the first time in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wildmother: sets Fjord down as a rook piece for his sturdiness and unyielding nature  
> Raven Queen: places Vax'ildan as a knight for his acute maneuverability and cunning  
> Moonweaver: smacks a pawn Mollymauk down on the opposite side of the board and Queen's him
> 
> The Frumpkin bit was inspired by the cutest Widomauk fanart I saw this week. Gah I do love a pining slow burn, but side plots make it so complicated. I'll have to do a side story of just all the moments I wanted Mollymauk to just make out with people; the moments that definitely went on in their heads. 
> 
> Molly and Lucien are now literally inside of their body again; it may start to feel crowded in there...
> 
> I'll see you guys in a few weeks!! Keep an eye on my Twitter or Instagram for updates! xx


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